


thus i cannot love in tears

by aaetha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Asthmatic Steve, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Boarding School, But Not Much, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunken Confessions, Eyeliner, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Halloween Costumes, High School, High School AU, Homophobic Language, Jealousy, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Possessive Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Resolved Romantic Tension, Sexist Language, Skinny Steve, Steve Wears Glasses, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and not at all original, because why not, cute-ass picnics under trees, little bit of stevepeggy in there, movie date, seriously there is nothing in this fanfic that has not already been done, this is entirely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-21 17:57:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaetha/pseuds/aaetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers didn't expect much, transferring to a boarding school in rural Virginia from his old home in New York.  A bunch of prissy rich kids, maybe.  Hard work, perhaps.  But finding someone like Bucky?  Hadn't even crossed his mind.</p>
<p>Bucky's third year at Lehigh didn't promise to be anything special- more college and SAT prep, likely, than the previous two, but otherwise much the same.  So he was taken entirely by surprise to find himself falling head-over-heels for the new kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. comme des enfants

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So, this is the first fanfic I've ever posted on AO3, and true to my nature it is about Steve and Bucky.
> 
> It's basically just the Stucky boarding school AU I've always wanted to read (and that my little sister pressured me into writing). As mentioned in the tags, there is literally nothing new to be found here, just fluff and angst and an overdone plot. 
> 
> Rating and Archive Warnings will likely change or be added as the story goes on- I have a basic idea of what’s going to happen, but there’s still possibility for changes. Ideally, I’ll update once a week on Sundays, but I can’t be 100% sure.
> 
> Translations and Credits in the end notes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which introductions are made, French is spoken, and Bucky falls in love.

_car sans rire c’est plus facile de rêver à ce qu’on ne pourra jamais plus toucher_  
_et on se prend la main, comme des enfants, le bonheur aux lèvres, un peu naïvement_  


The first time Steve Rogers sat his skinny ass down next to Bucky, he barely even noticed the kid. It was the first day of classes after a glorious three months of break, so Bucky felt he could be excused for not paying much attention to the scrawny blond after having to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn, sit in the car for five hours to get here, end up late for first period (which at least was a free, anyway, who cared) and then sit through an hour of Stats and Precalc with a teacher who sounded just as bored as he already felt. Besides, he was busy nodding his head to the beat of _Butterflies and Hurricanes_ to really acknowledge to the guy who’d decided to share his lab bench. He just adjusted his headphones slightly, nodded a wordless ‘yes, you can sit down,’ and then promptly tried to pretend he was anywhere but in the freezing Physics classroom, waiting for a ‘Ms Cleaves’ to show up and tell him about things he didn’t care about.

In fact, he’d practically forgotten he was there, quiet as he was, until they were already halfway through roll call and he’d had to somehow correct a mispronunciation of “Barnes” (seriously, how hard could it be to say?).

“Rogers, Steven,” the teacher had called out, and this goddamn adorable little voice from beside him piped up with a “Present, ma’am!” A wave of snickers ran through the class, and they had to be hushed before they could move on to, “Runcorn, Thomas,” but Bucky just found himself smiling quietly. He didn’t think people said _present_ anymore, and he hadn’t heard a _ma’am_ outside of an old movie for years. He glanced to his right to get a better look at the boy next to him, who it turned out was _tiny_ , neatly parted blond hair atop a sharp face and a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. On a closer look, he noticed the hearing aid hooked around his left ear and the dark circles under his startlingly blue eyes.

“All right, class,” the teacher (what was her name again?) said, having finally finished with some poor girl whose last name was Zamboni. “At least until I learn your names, you’re going to be having assigned seats-” She was interrupted by the loud sigh of disapproval and annoyance that rose from the room.

“Or if you guys would prefer, you could just stick to where you’re sitting now.” The students were considerably happier with this option, and before long she was rattling on about syllabi and course expectations and Bucky was staring absentmindedly at his new desk partner’s thin, almost delicate fingers as he arranged all of the papers being handed out into neat, right-angled piles and then began sorting them into a binder. 

“Hey,” Bucky whispered, in his neighbour’s general direction, “you’re new, right? I don’t remember seein’ you around last year.” 

“Yeah,” said Steven, glancing over at him sharply, “just moved in from New York. And I guess you’re not?” He didn’t seem to be acting friendly towards Bucky, exactly, but he didn’t look particularly hostile either, only wary. 

“Nah, I’ve been goin’ here since my parents decided to ship me off mid-freshman year. Anyway, it’s Steven, right?”

“Call me Steve,” the blond responded, sounding like he’d said the same line a million times. “And you’re James, yeah?”

“Yeah, but my friends call me Bucky,” he replied.

“Bucky,” Steve repeated, and he felt unexpectedly satisfied at hearing the way the other boy said his name. Mentally, he shook himself, trying to get it together. “That’s interesting. Where’s it come from?”

“Huh? Oh, my middle name,” Bucky said, shoving down the awkwardness he felt and trying to get back to himself. “It’s Buchanan, which is a bit of a mouthful, but I dunno, I never felt like James fit me very well. It was my little sister who had the idea to call me Bucky, and it just kinda stuck.” He glanced at Steve, who was wearing a funny sort of half smile.

“Hm. I like it,” he said, with an air of giving a final judgement on the subject, and Bucky smiled back. “You have a little sister? You’re lucky, I always wanted siblings.” 

“Oh man, you have no idea. Trust me, you’re the lucky one.” 

They chatted through most of the class. To Bucky’s surprise, talking with Steve came easily to him, felt natural, even, and he learned that they actually had a lot of things in common, despite the fact that Steve loved dogs and Bucky was definitely a cat person. He also spent a good chunk of the class staring absently at Steve’s face, scrunched up in concentration as he took notes (God, who actually takes notes on the first day of class? That was so cute.) He couldn’t help but stare, honestly, you couldn’t blame him, when the kid had eyelashes _that_ long, and eyes _that_ blue, and such a strong jaw for such a tiny person. 

As the bell rang, Bucky found himself thinking for the first time in his life that Physics had ended way too soon, but he said goodbye to Steve cheerfully as he went off to AP Russian, taught by the same dry-voiced, heavily-accented Mr Barinov as the past three years. 

* * *

Despite always having enjoyed his language classes, Bucky still found that lunch just couldn’t come soon enough, and the 12:19 bell finally ringing had him shoving his chair back and swinging his backpack onto his back with as much haste as possible. After a quick pit stop at his locker, where he dropped off his backpack and shoved his books roughly into the locker before slamming it shut, he rushed down to the cafeteria, where he eventually joined everyone at their usual table.

“Bucky!” someone roared as he approached, and yeah, that would be Dugan. 

“Dum Dum!” he replied, equally enthusiastic in his response, and they clapped hands and fistbumped as he sat down in his usual spot, right between Jim and the empty spot that had belonged to Pinky the year before, although he’d now graduated. 

“Monty here was just tellin’ me,” Dum Dum continued, oblivious to the sudden wave of sadness that washed over Bucky at the empty chair of his friend, “that in England the grades’re different. Did you know that anything above an eighty-five is an A, there?” 

Monty, for his part, nodded sincerely. “It’s true. I’d be passing all of- well, no, but most of my classes if I were back there.” Bucky nodded absently and made some comment acknowledging them, but he was busy glancing back at the lunch line. If he was right, Steve wouldn’t have anywhere to sit, and given that there was an empty space already…

His hypothesis was confirmed when he saw that shock of blond hair, and then the rest of Steve, emerging from the horde of students crowded around the juice machine, and glancing around the lunch room. He looked like he was about to head for a tiny empty table nearby, so Bucky took his chance and shouted across the room.

“Steve!” The kid looked up, searching for whomever had called his name. “Over here!” Bucky called, and Steve’s eyes finally met his own, his whole face lighting up when he realised. Bucky patted the empty chair next to him in a universal gesture of ‘come sit your ass down’, and Steve joined them without much hesitation, placing his tray next to Bucky’s and sitting down gingerly. He smiled tentatively at the group, and Bucky clapped his hands decisively. 

“Right. Introductions.” He turned to face the group, which was, for once, silent as they looked back at him. “This is Steve. He’s new. From New York. In my Physics class.” He looked to Steve for approval, and the blond filled the silence with a, “Hi!” and a small wave addressed at everyone.

“This is Jim – tenth grader, our resident child prodigy, from Fresno.” Jim, who had a mouthful of whatever strange pastrami concoction they were being fed today, just nodded in greeting, Steve replying in kind.

“Then there’s Tim Dugan over here, he’s a buffoon,” Bucky continued, gesturing.

“Bah, call me Dum Dum, the rest ‘a these idiots do anyway,” he replied genially. “Timothy Aloysius, at your service.” With that corny phrase, he tipped the bowler hat he was wearing, which Bucky still found utterly ridiculous but which he insisted on continuing to wear. 

“Right,” Bucky went on, continuing around the table. “Next up’s Monty here, he’s English. Then Gabe – hi, Gabe,” he acknowledged, as the guy gave a small wave, “and finally Frenchie. Er, Jacques, I guess, but nobody calls him that.”

“Bonjour,” Dernier directed towards Steve.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Bucky cut in, “we’re pretty sure he speaks English too, even if nobody’s ever heard it. He’s been living here for the past two years, at least, so he’d better’ve learned how to say hello.”

“Ce n’est pas grave, je parle français aussi,” Steve said haltingly, and Bucky blinked in surprise. That was, well, unexpected. The new kid was apparently full of surprises. Dernier, in the meantime, had turned to Gabe and said excitedly, “T’as entendu son accent? C’est plutôt mignon, ça. J’ai toujours aimé l’accent américain, et les gars blonds…” 

“Casse-toi, mec, t’peux pas voir que lui, il est pratiquement amoureux, déjà ? Dégage ou je t’apprendrai le respect, quoi,” Gabe shot back just as quickly, gesturing in Bucky’s direction. 

“Back to English, then,” Bucky said, completely lost. “Gabe usually translates for him, when it’s needed, but it seems like that’s not a problem for you, huh?” He glanced at Steve, who looked just as confused as he was, and figured that Dernier’s and Gabe’s rapid-fire French was a bit too much for him, in any case. He didn’t know why he was so startled that Steve spoke French- they’d only known each other for a few hours, after all, and it’s not like it had come up in their earlier conversation. Bucky hadn’t had a chance to mention his near-fluency in Russian, either. 

“And that’s everyone! Welcome to the table, and welcome to Lehigh, by the way, if nobody’s said it yet.” 

* * *

Steve, it turned out, was also in his history class, and they had a good laugh about the way a certain Mr Tekin tried to pronounce his middle name _(Butch-, that is, byoo-, that is, uh-)_ and Bucky found out that Steve was a bit of a WWII buff, when it came to interesting facts and dates and, overall, being the only one in the class to be able to answer their teacher’s questions. He found that he was impressed despite himself, given that he usually didn’t give a flying fuck about history, but somehow when it was Steve going on excitedly about countering German war tactics, it became a million times more interesting. 

Or maybe he just liked how the other boy’s face lit up in excitement when he started in on his passion. That was definitely a possibility, and if it were up to Bucky, he would let Steve talk to him about goddamn cardboard if it kept that spark in his eyes. 

Whatever the reason, he spent sixth hour more awake than he’d been the whole day, listening to Steve talk and, when he was focused on their teacher, discreetly glancing at his profile, which he’d determined was practically picturesque in how perfect it was. It was simply unfair for one person to be so fucking _pretty_ , it just wasn’t _fair_. Bucky told himself firmly that he was just jealous, since he would kill to look more like that and less like the sleep-deprived, messy-haired troll he really was. Seriously, imagine how nice it would be to wake up every morning and have the self that stared back at you from the mirror be as gorgeous as Steve was. 

When the hands of the clock finally crawled to 2:33, Bucky was relieved to only have one class left, but faintly annoyed at how quickly the day had gone by. Christ, school was practically over already, and he’d hardly had time to do everything he needed to do, let alone spend time meeting with all of his teachers like he was meant to and, he was willing to admit to himself, it was really too bad that he wasn’t going to be seeing Steve for the rest of the day, unless their rooms ended up being in the same hall, that is. 

“Hey, Steve,” he said, catching up to the blond as they left the classroom. “Steve! What hall’re you in?” 

Steve replied unintelligibly over the noise of everyone else chatting excitedly.

“What?”

“Evergreen!” Bucky just barely managed to make the word out before he was swept away by the crowd of students in their exodus from the classrooms, and headed over to health class with a spring in his step, unable to keep himself from smiling. He and the new kid were definitely going to be good friends, in the time to come. 

And even health, which was with some very peppy, very blonde woman that he’d never seen before in his life, was not as painful as usually, not while his mind was occupied as it was, and he had a feeling that this year was going to be much better than the last. A slightly goofy-looking dreamy smile rested on his face as he left the class building, backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder. The guys’ dorms were, unfortunately, all the way on the other end of the campus, a small cluster of buildings that Lehigh called halls for some strange reason. Bucky lived in Evergreen, which he would swear on his life was the best in front of anyone from a different hall but complained about it more often than not among his fellows. Nearby were Oak and Holly, and then in the other direction from the class buildings and canteen were Maple, Cherry, and Beech, the girls’ halls. 

In Evergreen they were divided up by grade, with all of the freshmen on the second floor, sophomores on the third, et cetera. After that they were randomly sorted into rooms, all though just about everyone stayed with their original roommates, except of course if there were problems. He was with Johnny Juniper and Happy Sam (he couldn’t recall the origin of the nickname, but it’d stuck), both of whom he didn’t mind all that much. They were all on good terms, at least, and stayed out of each other’s ways for the most part, and hey, at least nobody snored. It could have been a lot worse.

Dinner in the dining hall on the ground floor was at seven, followed by roll call at eight and then lights-out at ten-thirty, though Bucky was pretty sure that nobody actually went to bed until well after midnight, talking or reading or fooling around on their phones. That gave him a few hours to glance over the homework he’d been given and, more importantly, unpack. The two suitcases he’d brought from home were filled up with clothes and toiletries, mostly, but also a small part of his extensive comic book collection and a stack of letters from Becca, his little sister. While these days they mostly communicated by text, he’d never had the heart to get rid of all of the letters she’d written when he’d first gone off to boarding school two years ago. 

His parents had repeated again and again that it was for the best, that it would be a better environment for him and for his studies. He knew, of course, that what they meant was that the school’s strict rules and exclusive student body would keep him away from the bad crowd and, more importantly, away from the alcohol and troubles he’d gotten himself into in ninth grade. Bucky had, conveniently enough, avoided to tell them that even the world’s most elitist rich kids could sneak beer into school with little issue. He did have to admit that his grades had improved significantly, even if now he was always fighting stress and constantly tired. Most of the time, he just felt resigned to his life, though he was careful not to let it show. Despite their flaws, he did care for his friends, and he didn’t want himself to be a burden for them, or yet another reason for them to worry. 

* * *

He noticed Steve again at dinner, having arrived a bit late to finish unpacking, and saw the other boy eating all alone at the end of the table. He didn’t look upset about it- if anything, there was a look of resolve in his eyes as he focused entirely on his own food, ignoring the loud chatter of the other boys around him. So, of course, Bucky just had to walk all the way down there, giving Monty a nod and a head-jerk as he passed to explain why he wasn’t taking his usual place next to him, and place his tray in the empty seat next to Steve’s own. 

“Hey!” Bucky said cheerfully. Steve looked almost startled to see him.

“Oh, you really don’t hafta… I mean, I’m sure you have a place somewhere else…” he said, although he didn’t seem like he actually wanted to leave.

“Nah, I’m good here,” Bucky responded, smiling brightly. “So,” he continued, flopping down into the wooden chair and poking at the suspicious-looking slab of meat on his plate with his fork, “tell me about your first day! Who’ve you got for roommates?” 

“Uh, someone called Hodge, I think? I’m not sure; he didn’t say much by way of introduction. Seems to communicate mostly in grunts and angry looks.” Bucky found himself laughing, and Steve gave him one of those half-smiles.

“I don’t know the guy myself. Must be new as well. Hey, at least that way you guys’ll have something in common, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, although he didn’t sound very convinced. “I got everything unpacked, too, so that’s good, and I tried to look around but got lost. Barely managed to find my way here in time for dinner.”

“Oh, man,” Bucky said, remembering his own troubles finding his way around when he’d first arrived. “There’s supposed to be a sort of welcome committee to show you around and get you all installed and stuff, but they don’t really do much, honestly.” Steve nodded, and there was a short pause before Bucky continued. “If you like, I could, y’know, give you the tour? After we finish eating, of course.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, giving him a funny look. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.”

They finished eating in near silence, a part from a few comments and jokes about the bizarre appearance and texture of what was, according to the menu taped to the wall, supposed to be pork. Bucky glanced at his watch and, finding it was barely 7:20, went up to the queue to drop off his tray and dirty dishes. Steve followed suit tentatively, and they ended up standing in the huge double doorway of the dining hall.

“Right. We’ve still got about forty minutes, so,” Bucky said, gesturing grandly, “your tour begins, good sir.” Steve cracked a smile and went in the direction indicated. They wound all their way around the first floor of the house, Bucky making comments on the way. 

“And to your right, you’ll find the kitchen. Don’t use the oven, it caught on fire once. Mostly, there’s jack shit in the fridge, but every once in a while some poor sop will think it’s a good idea to leave some ice cream or a frozen pizza in there, and then depending on how hungry you are you might take pity on him and leave it, but most people just eat whatever they find.

“To your left, the study halls. On the weekends, there’s two hours a day of obligatory work- I know, it sucks,” he said in response to the face Steve made. “It’s okay though, it’s pretty easy to hide a phone behind your school books, or just read something for fun and pretend that it’s work.” Not that Bucky himself was really a reading-for-pleasure kind of guy. It was rare that he found a book that interested him. Steve, however, seemed just nerdy enough that it made sense to add that part.

“Aaand that’s just about everything,” he finished off when they’d gotten back to the dining hall. “There’s three staircases- the main one’s here, but it leads straight up to the third floor and skips the second. You’re not a freshman, though, so it’s unlikely you’ll need to be on their floor much. Then that way and that way,” Bucky continued, pointing, “you can find two more flights of stairs, which stop off at every floor. There’s a few bathrooms somewhere around here as well, but they’re easy enough to find. There’s labels on the doors, see,” he explained, gesturing at the one in the nearby corridor. 

Steve stood there for a moment, silent, then said, “I’m gonna draw a map. There’s no way I’m gonna remember my way around this place otherwise.”

“It is pretty weird, huh? I figure whoever made the blueprints just sorta threw rooms and hallways on randomly.” 

“Or maybe it’s purposely made confusingly, just so the architect’s ghost could laugh at us.” 

They bantered on like this for a few more minutes until they heard a voice blaring from the speakers above them, causing Steve to flinch, startled, and Bucky to chuckle.

“Roll call, roll call, it’s time for the roll call, everybody in the main hall for roll call, everybody downstairs in the hall for roll call!” Steve looked up at the speakers, annoyed, and Bucky noticed him fiddling with something on his hearing aid.

“Why’s it hafta be so loud?” he grumbled as they headed back to the hall for the nightly roll call and, given that it was the first day of the year, likely introductions and explanations for all of the newbies- something that he had had to manage without, given that he’d arrived right in the middle of term two years ago.

* * *

The next morning came far too quickly for Bucky, and he awoke feeling groggy and still mostly asleep to the pervasive sound of the alarm. “Five more minutes,” he slurred, but Sam had already flicked on the light and headed off to the showers. Bucky groaned and turned over, burying his face in his pillow, but he was awake now, and the motion around him and the noise of Johnny waking up were enough to drag him out of any half-sleep he could hope to regain. 

He somehow managed to unstick his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them, and stumbled off to the bathroom with a toothbrush and towel. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he ran a hand through his hair, which was only sticking up a little bit more weirdly than usual, and went through the routine of making himself look presentable to the world- which honestly wasn’t much more than washing his face and dealing with the fact that it tasted like something had died in his mouth. He checked the time before heading back to his room- only seven thirty, he was okay- and on his way back, he was somehow startled to see Steve on his way to the bathroom he’d just left, toothbrush in hand. 

Christ, he looked adorable. His hair was tousled, glasses gone, and he had on a pair of flannel pyjama pants and button-up shirt, and even a pair of fuzzy slippers that matched. Bucky was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that his own sleep outfit consisted of a pair of loose shorts and nothing else, and he quickly slipped back into his room, hoping Steve hadn’t seen him. 

He changed into his uniform, still feeling oddly flushed, and grabbed a muffin from the dining hall for his breakfast on the way out. He walked over to the class building with Monty as usual, chatting about something completely inane, and when they separated, the latter having to go off to AP Psych and leaving Bucky all alone to spend a free period languishing in not doing anything and pointedly ignoring the homework he didn’t do yesterday. Not that it much mattered- everyone knew the homework they gave you on the first day didn’t count, and even if they did check, it likely wouldn’t be graded. 

When he finally found himself in that same Physics classroom, leg bouncing uncontrollably as he tried to focus on the music blaring in his ears, he did his best not to be _waiting_ for Steve to show up. He was waiting for the teacher, that was all, and she seemed to be making a habit of being late to her own class. The fact that he’d rushed to get here had everything to do with wanting to avoid the crowds in the halls and nothing to do with wanting to see his lab partner as soon as possible. 

Steve showed up eventually, though it felt like an eternity as the other students filed in and their teacher still wasn’t there. Bucky paused in the middle of _Centuries_ and took off his headphones, leaving them hanging around his neck.

“Mornin’, Steve,” he said, smiling. Steve smiled at him as well, although he looked troubled by something, and Bucky took his feet off the desk and sat up properly to look at Steve as he sat down.

“Listen, Buck,” he said, and Bucky’s heart fluttered at the way he’d managed to nickname his nickname, god, he nearly missed the next part of Steve’s sentence thinking about it. “It’s real nice ‘a you to sit with me at dinner and show me around ‘n’ stuff, but-” Bucky immediately tried to go through everything he’d said over the past day, looking for something that could cause a ‘but’. Steve set his jaw, and his voice was hard as he continued. “Look, if you really want to be friends, that’s great, but if you just feel bad for me, then don’t bother.” Bucky almost laughed with relief. 

“No, of course-”

“No, lemme finish,” Steve cut in, and he shut his mouth immediately. “You seem all right, but I don’t want anyone’s pity, okay? If you can promise that you actually want to get to know me before you make any judgements based on my appearance or my,” he paused and then gestured to his hearing aid and face in general, “issues, then I’m glad, but if not,” here, he took a deep breath, “I’d rather spare you the trouble.” 

Bucky waited a moment, to make sure he’d really finished, and then let out the words he’d wanted to say since Steve had gotten started.

“It’s nothing like that, I swear. I actually do think you seem interesting, and funny,” and heart-stoppingly gorgeous, but he kept that one to himself, “and I wouldn’t judge you for anything, promise. I’m not like that,” he said, serious for a moment. “I know what it’s like to be stereotyped based on how you look, and trust me, I’m not about to put anyone else through it.” 

Steve breathed out slowly, nodding, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “I’m glad,” he said carefully. “I really woulda hated to shove you away like that, but I wanted to make sure.” 

“Of course,” Bucky said, but the wide smile on his face was forced, and when Ms Cleaves finally arrived to class (she was nine minutes late, so the room had already been buzzing with the debate of can-we-leave-after-ten-minutes-or-is-it-fifteen), he found it impossible to concentrate. All he could think about was the fact that for Steve to feel it was necessary to give him such a warning, it meant that something similar had happened in the past. Someone who’d befriended him out of pity alone, or betrayed him in some way. And as much as it hurt Bucky to think that someone could do that to his friend (and he already thought of them as friends, although they’d known each other for all of twenty-four hours), he just couldn’t figure out why. Steve was just so adorably earnest, and at the same time almost frighteningly resolved, and he’d obviously not gotten the greatest lot in life but he was still sweet and light-hearted, and Bucky just didn’t see why anyone in the world would not want to be friends with him. 

It took him a good ten minutes to realise that he’d been thinking along that line and staring at the freckles on Steve’s forearms for much longer than was appropriate. He refocused, or at least to the best of his ability, though he quickly ended up staring at the course overview and page of formulas in front of him without understanding a thing. It wasn’t until he noticed the little hearts he was doodling at the bottom of the page that he was able to take a step back and look at himself objectively.

Fuck.

There was no denying it.

He’d fallen fast and hard for Steve Rogers, and he could already tell that this wasn’t going to be one of those crushes that blew over in a month or so. He really, genuinely liked this kid, and more than he had any right to.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic title is an Albert Camus quote, the full thing being, "For me, physical love has always been bound to an irresistible feeling of innocence and joy. Thus, I cannot love in tears but in exaltation."  
> The chapter title and lyrics are from the Cœur de Pirate song 'Comme des Enfants'.  
> All songs mentioned belong to their respective owners.  
> Bucky, Steve, and all of the other characters are property of Marvel. 
> 
> Translations:  
> “Ce n’est pas grave, je parle français aussi. ”  
> “It is okay, I speak French too.”  
> “T’as entendu son accent? C’est plutôt mignon, ça. J’ai toujours aimé l’accent américain, et les gars blonds…”  
> “Did you hear his accent? That's kinda cute. I've always liked American accents, and blond guys...”  
> “Casse-toi, mec, t’peux pas voir que lui, il est pratiquement amoureux, déjà ? Dégage ou je t’apprendrai le respect, quoi.”  
> “Get out, dude, can’t you see that he's practically in love already? Keep off or I'll have to teach you respect.”
> 
> Thanks for reading~ Comments and kudos appreciated.


	2. danse et danse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve makes friends, goes to parties, and finds out _some_ of Bucky's secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read the first instalment... here's chapter two for your reading pleasure! Steve's POV this time.
> 
> Content warning for descriptions of drunkenness and wow gosh this sure is an original plot point I'm sure nobody has _ever_ used it before /sarcasm

_mais danse et danse tant que j’aie à t’aimer, je ne t’aurai plus quand ce sera demain_  
_c’est si dur de grandir, je sais- même sans moi, tu connais la fin_

The days slipped by easily, and Steve quickly grew accustomed to the rhythm of life at Lehigh. Waking up around seven fifteen and getting ready quietly while trying not to disturb Hodge (if his roommate had a first name, he’d yet to find it out), who liked Steve to be quiet in the mornings, and also in the afternoons, and just about most of the time. Then heading downstairs to eat a bowl of cereal and an apple for breakfast, and maybe a slice of coffee cake or a cupcake, if there were any in the dining halls, and making sure not to forget his insulin shot. After that, class, followed by lunch in the canteen, three more classes, and then free time until dinner at seven. 

For the first week or so, Steve spent it exploring the fairly expansive campus, but classes had actually started up being difficult after that, so he’d been passing a lot more of his time in the study halls surrounded by books about history or physics or Precalc. He was only taking one AP, French, but two honors classes besides and the school’s advanced art class, which took up as much time as a normal class would. The result of all of this was that once he got the feeling of how things worked at this school, most of his free periods and post-class free time was devoted to trying to get his homework done and studying for the what-felt-like-disproportionate amount of tests they gave at this place. 

Any time not spent poring over his notes he used to draw or, to his surprise, hang out with his friends. Steve wasn’t much used to having real friends, and certainly not a group of them who accepted them as easily as Bucky’s friends had. Not only did they offer him a place at their lunch table, but he ate with Bucky and Monty at dinner and during his free periods he could always be sure to find one or two of them hanging around somewhere in the school to spend the half-hour break or a free period with.

Besides them, there was always Peggy. She was in his Honors English class, and Steve felt like he spent the entire fifty minutes of the class in awe of her. She was intelligent, composed, and gorgeous, and it was more than a week before he worked up the courage to talk to her. When he finally did, he was sure he’d botched the whole matter.

“Hey, Peggy,” he’d called, catching her packing away her books as the rest of the class filed out.

“Hi, Steve,” she’d said in that British accent of hers, and Steve tried to keep his eyes from being drawn to her red-painted lips as they’d curved up into a smile.

“Uh, I w-was just wonderin’ if you could help me out with the homework sometime?” he’d stuttered, more a question than the statement that it should have been. “Only, I’ve never been good at Shakespeare ‘cause the language is so weird, and you seem really confident- that is, y’know what you’re saying, it looks like, in class, and I really don’t, and I was just hopin’ you could…” Steve had known he had to be bright red, but Peggy, God bless her, didn’t say anything about it.

“I’d love to,” she’d said, that alluring smile growing wider. “Are you free first on Tuesdays?” 

“No, but I’ve got fourth, if that works for you,” he’d hastened to respond with, grinning at her. “We could meet in the art room, if you want?”

“Lovely,” she’d replied, gathering her bag into her arms and gesturing towards the classroom door. “After you?”

Steve had left the room unable to keep himself from smiling until his cheeks hurt, and he tried to ignore the knowing look of a certain Ms Wallington who was arranging her papers with raised eyebrows as Peggy followed him. 

After that first rendez-vous, they’d started meeting up weekly, Steve being in dire need of the English help and Peggy profiting from their arrangement to have Steve help her in history, which apparently had always been the class she hated the most. He enjoyed her company immensely, and even if he wasn’t quite as much of a fan of some of her friends, (namely Howard Stark, a pompous rich ‘young genius’ that Steve couldn’t stand), he loved the moments that they got to spend time together. 

But as much as he treasured his time with Peggy, even more precious were the few hours a week that he got to spend with Bucky. Outside of class, outside of meals, and without Dum Dum and Jim and all the rest, they’d take any half-hours in between tasks as they could to sit under one of the large oak trees out back of Evergreen, watching the orange and brown leaves slowly fall to the ground and talking about everything and nothing. Not to mention that, fairly often by now, he was snuck into Bucky’s room after curfew with him and his two roommates, Johnny and a guy who introduced himself as Happy Sam, plus a few other boys from the same floor or just above. They all seemed to take to him well, to his constant surprise, and he enjoyed the nights spent whispering and laughing and trying not to be too loud because if the Head of House heard them, they were busted, and breaking curfew was an offence punishable by Saturday detention. 

It was during one of these rebellious nights that Johnny, a bit tipsy (there was nearly always alcohol, although Steve had politely but firmly refused each time it was offered, and he’d noticed that Bucky had avoided it for the most part as well), started going on loudly about the girls in their class and, predictably, who had the best tits or the nicest ass or the hottest figure. Each time a name was mentioned, it was met by a chorus of positive oooohs or disparaging ohhhhs, and while Steve felt a bit, well, vulgar taking part in it, he did so nonetheless, not comfortable enough about his position among these friends to voice his concerns.

Inevitably, Peggy came up, and to be honest Steve would have been offended if she hadn’t. There was no denying it, the girl was gorgeous, and even the stupidest guy in the world could see that. What he could have done without, however, were the loud murmurs of agreement, and he certainly would have been happier not having heard Bucky say loudly, “I dunno about you guys, but I’d _definitely_ tap that.” 

This was met by a roar of laughter by the rest, followed by frantic shushing, and one of the seven who were there that night clapped Bucky on the back and said, “I’ll give ‘im ‘til the end of the month. If he hasn’t ‘ad her by October, he ain’t our Bucky.” Amid the laughter and dissolution into smaller conversations, Steve excused himself quietly and retreated back to his room, where Hodge cracked open one eye at his entrance, grunted something disapproving, and went right back to snoring. 

He sat down on his bed, stomach flip-flopping uncomfortably. He didn’t know what it was about the situation he’d just come from that made him so uncomfortable, but he felt like he would have been better off not having heard the exchange. It didn’t make any sense for him to feel this way, of course. Peggy was an attractive girl, and there were going to be other guys who liked her, guys who were funnier and more popular and hotter and actually knew how to talk to girls. It was to be expected, and he honestly never should have gotten his hopes up. Still, there was something about it all that made him feel queasy, and despite all of his efforts to get some sleep, he ended up turning it all over in his mind again and again for hours before he eventually dropped off.

* * *

It was a Thursday in early October that things changed from this well-established routine. The grey sky, drizzling rain, and dreary atmosphere were just like they’d been every day before that, and Steve started out his day in utter normalcy, although he did wake up a few minutes late, making him slightly rushed as he grabbed his breakfast and headed off to class, only to remember that yes, there was a test in French, and yes, it was worth about a hundred points. As stressful as that was, he thought (or rather, hoped) that he’d managed to scrape by with at least a B+, so he didn’t worry too much and instead walked down to English with a smile on his face. The discussion roughly based around The Great Gatsby was interesting enough, and Steve even managed to ignore the snickers and harsh words directed towards him when he tripped in the hallway after. Art class was, as always, a respite from the rest of the school, as Ms Lenhe was as accepting a teacher as one could ask for, and his classmates similarly interesting and nonjudgmental.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and he sat himself down in the study hall of Evergreen that afternoon, got out his iPod, and turned Of Monsters and Men up to maximum volume to lose himself in his studies. However, he’d hardly gotten very far before he felt a tap on his shoulder and flinched, startled, and banging his knee on the underside of the table. “Ow!” he said, louder than he’d intended, turning in that direction only to find Bucky standing on his other side, grinning.

“You’re way too pleased with yourself,” Steve said, taking out his earphones and blinking up at his friend. “That wasn’t even funny.” But despite his words, he couldn’t help smiling as he saw the way Bucky’s laughter lit up his face. 

“So…?” he said, after he figured it had been a sufficient amount of time. It really _hadn’t_ been funny, certainly not enough to merit this much laughter and such a self-satisfied look from the other boy. Besides, his knee still kind of hurt.

“Right, sorry,” said Bucky, composing himself. “I’m s’posed to tell you,” he continued, “that everyone, an’ I mean everyone, is meeting in my room tonight at eleven. The Heads of House’re leaving for a meeting at Holly – not that students’re meant to know that – so we can make as much noise as we want. Apparently it’s gonna be the best-”

He was interrupted by a loud shushing noise coming from another guy who looked to be really studying and really annoyed, so Steve gestured for Bucky to be quieter and he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“ _Apparently_ , it’s gonna be the best almost-party this school’s ever seen. I’m pretty sure Allan’s bringin’ weed, so that’ll be a laugh, at least, watchin’ ‘em all get high and act like idiots.” Steve forced a grin and gave Bucky a thumbs up, then pointed at his own work and Mr Annoyed across from them, and finally at Bucky himself and made a sweeping motion towards the door. With an overly exaggerated grin and two thumbs up, Bucky left the room, and Steve put his earphones back in, pressing play on his iPod.

      _Howling ghosts – they reappear_  
      _In mountains that are stacked with fear_  
       _But you’re a king and I’m a lionheart._  
       _And in the sea that’s painted black,_  
       _Creatures lurk below the deck_  
       _But you’re a king and I’m a lionheart._  
      _And as the world comes to an end_  
       _I’ll be here to hold your hand_  
       _‘cause you’re my king and I’m your lionheart._  
       _A lionheart._

Despite how much he enjoyed getting to spend the time with Bucky and his friends, Steve really didn’t feel like he was made for the sort of environment that their post-curfew meet ups engendered. He was really more the kind of guy to stay up all night, yes, but reading or studying or on the internet in his room. Partying, well, it just wasn’t his style. He’d been to a few, sure, back in New York, but he’d never seen the appeal. The loud music only messed with his hearing aid and gave him headaches, you couldn’t pay him to dance, and even if drinking wouldn’t be potentially deadly, given his health, it wasn’t something he was particularly keen on trying out. Besides, the whole atmosphere usually ended up being uncomfortable for him. 

In his experience, it was best to just stay out of the whole ‘party’ thing, and to keep from making friends who expected him to come to them. Now, given the restraints of being in one single, if large, room, and being in school, there likely wouldn’t be any flashing lights that might trigger his epilepsy or music so loud you can’t hear yourself, but anything described as an ‘almost-party’ was something that, as a general rule, he wanted to avoid.

Steve resigned himself to decide about it after dinner, and maybe end up telling Bucky that he felt ill- and it wouldn’t be stretching the truth all that far, anyway, given that he was still getting over a cold he’d caught last week. Still, two hours later, he was packing up the same math problems he’d started on when he’d sat down, having made only the slightest bit of progress, and he still hadn’t come to a decision. He didn’t want to let Bucky down, or miss out on anything that could end up being really fun (and a part of him almost felt like he had to watch over his friend, to make sure the guy didn’t do anything stupid, though why he assumed Bucky couldn’t take care of himself he wasn’t sure.) On the other hand, among other downsides, people would be smoking, which might end up giving him an asthma attack, and it had been almost a year now since he’d had to be sent to the hospital for an attack of any sort. He’d been hoping to stretch that record out as long as possible. 

And yet… 

And yet, he didn’t really know how to get out of it- and, when he really thought about it, he didn’t think he wanted to either. Bucky was expecting him to be there, and at the very least the two of them could laugh at everyone else making fools of themselves, right? 

Steve told himself firmly that he’d go. His mother was always telling him that he needed to be more social, anyway, and while he wasn’t sure she’d approve of all of Bucky’s friends, he thought she’d like Bucky himself, and be glad that Steve was branching out a bit. He’d told her over the phone that things were going well, of course, talking up all of the good points of the school and pointedly avoiding subjects like his roommate and the majority of the student body making fun of him. Sarah had helped him so much with his scholarship application, after all, and she’d seemed so happy when he’d gotten in. He wasn’t about to ruin that for her.

And he wasn’t about to ruin things for himself, either. New school, new start, he repeated in his head, just as he had on the first day when he’d, thank God, managed to make friends with Bucky somehow. He still wasn’t sure why the other boy even spoke to him- after all, he was popular and good-looking and funny and Steve was awkward and skinny and fragile. 

But they worked, together. They worked surprisingly well, and it was with thoughts of Bucky in his mind that he headed up to his room after dinner to finally change out of his uniform and into a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt. He glanced at himself in the mirror, ran a hand through his slightly mussed hair and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and then promptly got into bed to pretend to sleep so that when the Heads of House came around to verify that the curfew was upheld they wouldn’t think that anything fishy was up. True to Bucky’s word, he soon heard noises from downstairs indicating that the two adults usually responsible for keeping the house of teenage boys under control had left the building. He waited a good half hour, reveling in the comfort of his bed but buzzing with mental activity. Once he was sure that he was safe, he sat up, wincing at the slight creaking noise the bed made. 

Steve did his best to sneak across the room silently, but Hodge, who was on his phone, its light just barely illuminating his pallid face, said something before he could get to the door.

“’ereyagoin?” 

“Sorry?” Steve said, frozen mid-step halfway across the room in an almost comical manner.

“Where. Are. Ya. Goin’,” his roommate repeated forcefully, setting his phone down and turning to face Steve. “Yer always leavin’ at night and not comin’ back ‘til real’ late. Where do ya go?” 

“Um,” he responded eloquently, doing his very best not to panic. What was he supposed to say? He wasn’t about to give everyone up just like that- Hodge didn’t really seem the type to tell on them for breaking curfew, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure, and besides he had no desire to let his roommate in on their secret. Aware of the long pause, he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“The kitchen? They, uh, they don’t feed us enough here,” Steve said hesitantly, trying to keep his voice steady and less tentative than he felt. To his relief, Hodge just grunted and picked up his phone again. 

“Yer too skinny ‘nyway,” he mumbled, and Steve breathed out an almost-laugh before continuing. 

As he tiptoed down the corridor, he glanced at his watch- 11:14. Later than he’d hoped, but ideally not so late that everyone would be drunk or high or worse already. He was so focused on trying not to make noise, himself, that he didn’t even notice the lack of sound until he’d traversed the entire length of the hall. Bizarrely, in approaching Bucky’s room, he didn’t hear laughter or whispering or anything more than the creaking of the wood floor beneath his feet. Confused and slightly worried, he knocked on the door gently before pushing it open.

“Bucky? You there?” Steve couldn’t see anything in the total obscurity, so he flicked on the light after shutting the door behind him, frowning. 

Blinking rapidly to try to get used to the sudden assault of bright light to his pupils, he could make out the figure of Bucky curled up on his bed in the corner of the room. He was loosely holding a bottle of vodka in his left hand and looked to have already drunk almost half of it, if his vacant expression was anything to go by.

“Steve?” he said, squinting in the general direction of the doorway, where Steve was still standing. “Stevie, ‘zat you?” 

“Yeah, Buck, it’s me,” Steve said, walking over as quickly as possible and sitting down on the bed next to him. Now that he was closer, he could see that Bucky’s hands were trembling slightly, and his face much more flushed than normal. 

“’M s’posed t’tell you,” Bucky said, gesturing vaguely with his hand in no particular direction. “Ev’ryone’s gone t’Al’s room. But I stayed,” he continued, pressing a hand to his own chest emphatically, “so’s you wouldn’ be confused.” 

His words, while not slurred, exactly, were mumbled and clumsy, and he seemed less in control of himself than Steve had ever seen him. Only a few inches away, Steve could literally smell the alcohol on his breath, and he tried not to wrinkle his nose at the stink. Bucky squinted at the bottle in his hand, and then made to take another swig of it.

“Okay- okay, no, Bucky, I think you’ve drunk enough for tonight,” said Steve firmly. “C’mon, give me that, you’re done.”

“No, I don’ wanna,” his friend said, “m’not drunk, I don’ wanna…” but made no efforts to resist when Steve took the bottle from his hand and set it down next to the bed, making sure that it would be out of view from the perspective of someone standing in the doorway, just in case. 

Steve could have sworn his heart was beating double-time. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Yeah, he’d watched all of the documentaries in health class just like everyone else, but while he’d been around plenty of tipsy teenagers, he’d never had to deal with someone who was actually drunk enough not to be able to take care of himself, someone that he actually had to worry for. And now that he was here, despite how many times he’d told himself that he’d know what to do in a situation if it arose, he was completely lost. Should he tell someone? Was it that bad? Or- no, there wasn’t even an adult in the house. Go get one of Bucky’s roommates, who were apparently up on the fifth floor in Allan’s room?

He felt a surge of anger towards them, because how could they abandon Bucky when he was like this? It was only forty-five minutes past the curfew, maybe a little more, so he had to have been drinking beforehand as well, to get himself into this state. He consoled himself with thinking that even if they’d stayed, they’d probably only have gotten drunk as well, and that would have been even more dangerous. Still, he resented having to be alone in this situation, having to make this decision without anyone else.

“Okay, Bucky,” he said quietly, talking more to himself than actually expecting the other boy to understand him. “We’re just gonna get some water in you, so you won’t feel bad in the morning, and then get you into bed, yeah? That’s a good idea, getting some sleep, isn’t it?” 

Steve kept talking gently as he stood up from the bed and grabbed a mug that was standing on Bucky’s night table, verifying that it wasn’t full of mold or something, and headed down to the bathroom at the end of the hall. When he came back, mug full of water, Bucky appeared not to have moved, still hunched up on his bed, back to the wall, eyes fixated on his own feet.

“All right, there we go, I’m back,” Steve said, sitting down again gingerly on the bed. “C’mon, Buck, drink up. It’ll help, promise.” 

He tried to give Bucky the mug, but he kept refusing to hold onto it, so Steve ended up holding it to his mouth and gently tipping it back. Bucky drank obediently at first, but after a few moments made a face and pushed away the mug. 

“Don’ wanna,” he said again, and Steve couldn’t help but remark how much like a child he’d become when drunk. He gave it another effort, but in vain, as Bucky seemed completely against the idea of drinking water, much as he’d wanted to keep drinking the vodka just a few minutes ago. Sighing, Steve put the mug back on the table, and found himself thinking almost viciously that if Bucky ended up super hung over tomorrow, he wouldn’t feel bad in the slightest. He’d done his best to help.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Steve said in as comforting a voice as he could manage. “D’you want to get some sleep? Why don’t you get in bed, now, so that you can rest a bit?”

“Sleep?” said Bucky, and Steve wasn’t sure if it was a question or an affirmation, but he figured it didn’t matter much either way.

“Yeah, that’s it, sleep,” he continued. He had a momentary thought that it was silly that Bucky was all dressed, still, shouldn’t he be in pajamas before he goes to bed? But then he realized that if he wanted Bucky to change, he would have to do it himself, and he could feel his cheeks burning at the thought alone. Instead, he just started to stand up so that he could get out of his friend’s way and leave him to sleep.

To his surprise Bucky clumsily grabbed his wrist and pulled him back onto the bed so that he was sitting at the head of the bed as well, and then lay down, placing his head in Steve’s lap and curling himself up. 

“Mmmm,” he said, snuggling up, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. Ridiculous as the entire situation was, it was kind of adorable nonetheless. Barely even noticing what he was doing, Steve began to gently run his hand through Bucky’s hair, looking at the contours of his friend’s face. He looked so peaceful like this, eyes closed and his mouth curled up into a slightly dopey smile. Steve himself was actually beginning to grow drowsy, and he considered for a moment resting like this until they both fell asleep, propped up against a pillow with his hand in Bucky’s hair.

He would have done it, too, had it not been for Bucky suddenly sitting up.

“Steve!” he said urgently, and far louder than necessary, given that the person he was talking to was mere millimeters away. 

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve asked, slightly disgruntled about having had to move from their comfortable position but mostly just worried about Bucky and wondering what could be the issue. 

“I gotta tell Steve,” he started, slouching down again but keeping his sitting position so that he was looking directly at Steve. “No, no wait,” Bucky said, and then he started giggling. “Wait, no no, you can’ tell him. ‘s a secret.” Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it again, unsure of what to do. He knew that he should probably just put Bucky in bed and leave, but he was more curious than he’d like to admit.

What could he be keeping from him? Was it just something silly, some sort of gibberish because he was drunk? Or was there actually something that Bucky was hiding, some secret that he didn’t want Steve to know? 

“What is it? What can’t I tell him?” he asked before he could help himself. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth, but he was still curious for the answer, bubbling with nervous anticipation.

Bucky dissolved into laughter again, and he fell back over into Steve’s lap as he did so. It was a good ten minutes before he got control of himself again, and he didn’t seem to see it necessary to get back up. Instead, he just turned around so that he was looking up at Steve from his lap. 

“You can’t,” he emphasized, sticking out a finger to bop Steve on the nose but missing and hitting him on the cheek instead, which caused Steve to jerk backwards and shut his eyes in surprise, “tell ‘im anythin’. Nobody even knows ‘m gay. Dum Dum doesn’ even know ‘m gay.”

Steve looked at Bucky in shock. He was… he was _gay_? But that didn’t… that couldn’t make any sense, Bucky liked girls. It was obvious, from the way he looked them up and down when they walked by and the rumors that the school was always buzzing with. Not to mention, he could have sworn that he’d heard about previous girlfriends – or ‘conquests’ as Dum Dum called them – but, when Steve thought about it, he realized that _Bucky_ had never actually said anything about liking girls. He’d always just kind of assumed, based on the evidence and what the others said. But if Bucky were closeted, if he had to pretend…

He was just thinking that he was okay with it, actually, that he was surprised but it wasn’t like this was some horrible secret that he had to keep. It was perfectly normal, after all, and to be honest Steve was somewhat relieved that he wasn’t the only queer person in the school. New York had lots of MOGAI-friendly or even bi-specific places that he’d been able to go to, but he hadn’t been expecting much from a fancy-schmancy rich kids’ boarding school in a small town in Virginia. 

He was just telling himself that it was all right, he didn’t need to be so worked up, when Bucky turned everything upside-down on him. 

“He can’ know that I like him like that. ‘s a secret, okay? Don’ tell.” 

Steve nodded numbly. He couldn’t have heard that right. There was no way. He could not have understood what he thought he had. It was just wishful thinking, that’s all. Just his imagination making something out of nothing as usual.

Bucky lifted his hand again, this time apparently trying to place it up against Steve’s face, but his movements were lethargic and clumsy and he ended up just resting it on his shoulder. Drunk as he was, his grey eyes still looked piercing, and Steve felt like he was being scrutinized, like his secrets were spilling out into the open air instead of Bucky’s. “Love ya, Stevie,” the brunet said.

A chill ran down Steve’s spine and then continued through all of his nerves in the form of a tingling feeling that spread even to the tips of his fingers. Looking down, he saw them trembling, and he took a deep breath to try to calm his racing heartbeat. This is something he hadn’t been ready for, hadn’t had the time to prepare for in his room an hour ago- could it only have been an hour? It felt like decades. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and, still shaking slightly, he pushed his glasses up his nose. He tried to break the silence.

“Buck…”

Before he could get anything out (not that he could think of a single thing to say, after a declaration like that), Bucky lurched upright, looking suddenly pale. 

“Shit, I feel like… m’gonna…” 

He looked like he was about to puke and Steve, a part of him slightly glad for the distraction, rushed to stand up and grab the trash can on the other side of the room, dragging it back to the bed. Bucky heaved and retched dryly a few times, gave a raw-sounding cough, and then flopped onto his back miserably. Steve sat down by him, brushing a few strands of dark brown hair off of his face, and Bucky smiled weakly and closed his eyes. 

He looked gorgeous, even like this. Steve watched his friend fall asleep, watched as his jaw relaxed and his head lolled to the side slightly. He was still having trouble processing everything that had just happened, and it was easier to stifle the thoughts buzzing around in his mind when he was looking at Bucky’s profile. He’d like to draw him, someday, but he feared he wouldn’t do him justice. Still, sometime in the future, he’d ask Bucky to pose for him, or maybe just draw him candid or just like this, neck drawn taut and chin tipped back as he slept. Features relaxed, for once, none of the usual stress or worries contorting them. He was beautiful like this, even more so than normally, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Realization was dawning on him, and as much as he might try to swallow it down, he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. He liked Bucky. A lot. More than he should like someone who he only considered a friend, but he was afraid to even start considering him as anything else. He had no experience in this realm, and the last thing he wanted was to somehow mess things up with one of the only two good friends he’d made at his new school. 

He stayed for another half-hour, stroking Bucky’s hair and holding his hand as he slept and trying to think of nothing and everything at once. At midnight, he found that he was yawning and having trouble keeping his own eyes from fluttering shut, so he smiled at his sleeping friend and then stood up to leave, making as little noise as possible. He snuck back across the room, shutting the light as he did so, and then down the hall to his room, wincing at each creak of the wood-paneled floor. 

Steve could actually hear what sounded like laughter and loud voices coming from the floor above him, which must have meant that they were making a good amount of noise up there in Allan’s room, because the walls were pretty thick. Shaking his head and sighing, he walked the rest of the way back to his room normally, because if the Heads of House weren’t back yet there was no problem if he were caught out of bed. Anyway, he could just say he’d had to go to the bathroom, if they did show up to interrogate him, although he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain that he was in day clothes. 

When he cracked open the door to his own room, he didn’t see the faint light of Hodge’s phone, so he assumed the other boy was asleep and tiptoed over to his bed. Undressing quickly and slipping on his pajamas, he climbed into bed and set his glasses and hearing aid gingerly on the night table before lying down and closing his eyes. 

As much as he tried to quiet his restless brain, sleep was going to escape him tonight and Steve knew it. He couldn’t keep himself from replaying the situation that he’d just gotten back from again and again in his mind, trying and trying to see any interpretation of it but the obvious. Bucky couldn’t really be saying that he… well, that he liked Steve in that way, could he? It would be ridiculous. There had to be some other explanation for what he’d said. Drunken babbling, probably. Or he’d gotten mixed up, or maybe he knew some other Steve, and that’s who he was talking to. There was no reason that Bucky, the closest thing to perfection that humanity had yet achieved, would want anything to do with him. It was a miracle that they were even friends. Bucky deserved better than him- would have chosen better than him, he was convinced. Come dawn, he’d been agonizing over it for hours and hours, and come to the conclusion that he’d somehow misheard or mistaken the situation. He’d been so worked up anyway that he’d assumed that Bucky was saying something that he most definitely was not. He’d just been drunk and confused, and Steve should do his best to forget about the whole thing.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t find it in himself to stay on what he knew was the right train of thought, and he kept straying to fantasies of what would have happened if Bucky had been a little less drunk, and if he’d meant to be saying what Steve had thought he was saying, and what it would be like to kiss that mouth of his, to cup his head in his hands and press their lips together…

When he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, only an hour or so before he was supposed to be waking up, it was to his overactive imagination coming up with impossible scenarios in which Bucky fell hopelessly in love with him, and they kissed for hours sheltered under the branches of that oak tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics from the Cœur de Pirate song Danse et Danse.  
> The lyrics from the song Steve was listening to belong to the Of Monsters and Men song Lionheart.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Concrit greatly appreciated :)


	3. verseau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky has lots of regrets, and then lots of jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loads of love to everyone who read and left kudos/comments on the first chapter! Apparently there are 27 of you guys following this story now, so thank you so much for reading my silly high school au and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

_et si tu savais, si tu savais, j’ai peur de te perdre à jamais_  
_et si tu savais que même moi j’attendrais_

When Bucky woke up, he wished more than anything that he could have still been asleep. He hurt… well, everywhere, really, but mostly his head pounded, an immediate and constant pressure that pushed on all sides of his brain until it felt like it was going to explode or worse. Gingerly, he moved his arm, and then the other, letting out a quiet moan. Fuck, that hurt. Everything hurt. He felt like _shit_. His mouth felt dry and sticky, painful, and he was still faintly nauseous, and the sunlight leaking in through the open curtains was making his eyes water with how bright it was.

The alarm was still going off, and he yelled a, “Would someone turn that damn thing off already?” before putting a pillow on his face and trying to pretend he wasn’t awake. He wanted nothing more than to just stop being conscious right now. 

And when he remembered the events of last night, he wanted nothing more than to forget them again.

He was a fucking idiot, that much was certain. What had possessed him to start drinking? He knew damn well that it was a bad idea to let himself near alcohol, and yet he’d done it anyway. And not even a beer or two, that he could have handled just fine. But _vodka_. A bottle of vodka, and all alone in his bedroom, because he just had to wait for Steve to show up to tell him in person that everyone had left, because he couldn’t have just left a note or headed over to Steve’s room himself to tell him that way. It would, Bucky reasoned, even have been fine if he had just left with the others at ten forty-five instead of waiting. Sure, he was already tipsy by then, but not drunk enough for it to even border on dangerous, not even really drunk enough to be hung over like he was this morning.

And Steve- _Steve_. God, he was lucky if the guy would even talk to him today, let alone stay his friend. His memories were fuzzy at best, and filled with holes, but he distinctly recalled being hunched over a trash can, and Steve taking care of him, tucking him into bed, and oh yes how _could_ he forget, himself spilling everything that he’d been keeping secret for the past month and a half. 

Fucking idiot.

What could he say? That he had been so drunk he didn’t know what he was saying, that he had just been confused? There was a part of him that thought he should just tell the truth, get it over with. The worst that would happen was that Steve would reject him, and as painful as that would be, it’s not like he wouldn’t be facing worse if he tried to make up some dumb excuse. This could actually, he thought, brightening a little, be a good reason to get his feelings out there. Obviously this was bothering him, if the way he reacted to losing the slightest bit of control was anything to go by, and if there was one thing he didn’t need in his life right now, it was more unresolved tension. He’d never had trouble asking people out in the past- why would now be any different? He would just have to turn on the charm and tell Steve the truth, and that was that. Bucky knew full well that he was practically irresistible when he tried.

That was it, he was decided. Feeling significantly better already, Bucky sat up quickly, shoving the pillow off his bed. And then he groaned in pain, having been brutally reminded of the fact that he was incredibly, excruciatingly hung over by a feeling akin to being hit in the head with a hammer.

Glancing at the clock on his night table, he realized that it was also nearly seven forty-five already. Fucking hell, this really was a terrible morning.

* * *

Given that it was Friday, he didn’t have Physics, but he and Steve shared a free third period, so he shoved a bunch of papers into his backpack and left the math wing at a carefully casual stroll, looking around for Steve. To his disappointment, he didn’t see his friend anywhere, and he ended up returning upstairs to his usual table to sit down and get some work done, accompanied by a morose-looking Jim, who made it verbally clear that he did not want to be bothered by anyone else’s problems or hangovers right now, bogged down as he was by the three AP classes he was already taking. So Bucky sighed and complained for the principle of it, but eventually he sat himself down and shut up to let his friend work. 

Eventually, after staring at the same math problem for a good twenty minutes and not understanding it any better than he had at the beginning, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to get anything done in this state. He had already hurriedly scribbled down some of the homework he hadn’t done during his other free first period, and then practically slept through math (thank god he sat in the back), so it wasn’t really urgent that he get things done this period.

Instead, Bucky decided to take a walk around the school. And he wasn’t going to lie to himself, part of it was because he really did want to bump into Steve ‘on accident’, but another part of him did actually think it would be nice to spend some time just walking around. As intimately as he already knew Lehigh, it had been quite a long while since he’d just had time to kill, and it sounded like as good an idea as any to stand up and move around a bit instead of just passively scrolling through his Facebook feed.

At least, that’s what he thought until he actually stood up, at which point he remembered that _ow_. Still, he’d made a decision and he was going to stick to it, so he bid his ‘later’s to Jim and walked down the hallway in the direction of the lockers. Waving hello to a group of people that he vaguely knew (although they all seemed to know his name, somehow), Bucky passed the teachers’ lounge and then began making his way down the second floor’s long hallway of classrooms. English on his right, then history on the left, and then another history class in the multipurpose classroom up next, then a bunch of loud yelling in broken Chinese coming from the next room… Nearing the art room, Bucky found himself actually intrigued by all of the pieces pinned up on the walls surrounding it. 

Sure, some of them were evidently amateurs’ work, but it was still nice to look at. The project seemed to have been a still life, and in front of him he saw the same bowl of fruit from fifteen different angles. Next to these, pale sketches on black paper, was a second corkboard with a bunch of photographs pinned to it, and then across the hall from the room was a third one with the colorful header “Artist of the Week.” Bucky was startled to see the name in cut-out letters was none other than the one and only Steven Rogers.

His jaw practically dropped as he approached the board. Was that- that was _Steve_ ’s work? It couldn’t be. Bucky would have known if his friend were such a fantastic artist, wouldn’t he? That is… he racked his brains, but while he’d known well that Steve was taking an advanced art class and that he’d doodled extensively on all of his binders, sure, he couldn’t remember a single time Steve had actually showed him a piece of his art. Was it actually possible for him to have hidden a talent like this since the beginning of the year? Bucky found himself shaking his head slowly as he looked over the whole wall piece by piece.

He saw first off the same still life as the others had drawn, but also pinned to the board were a dozen or so other drawings and paintings. A portrait in pencil of a young girl looking to the left, a charcoal sketch of a bustling cityscape, a watercolor of a cluster of flowers peeking out from a crack in the pavement. Bucky was in awe, shocked once again by the way Steve managed to surprise him with unexpected talents. He noticed that his friend seemed to prefer to draw people over anything else, whether it be a white pencil profile or a full-body turned away from the viewer, the faces all jumped out at him, rendered in startlingly realistic detail. What he liked most was their expressions. Even the smiling ones seemed to have something melancholy about them, a sadness in the turned-down corner of a mouth or a downward gaze, or more often something in the eyes that made a chill run down Bucky’s spine. They were gorgeous, and he couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known about this before. Steve had to spend hours and hours on these, how had he managed to not at all be a part of something that was obviously so important to his friend?

It was then that he realized how little he knew about the other boy. Sure, he could probably consider him the closest thing he had to a best friend, here at least, but while they discussed their daily life easily, they rarely broached the subject of life outside of Lehigh. He’d heard Steve mention his mother a few times, and he knew that he came from New York, but besides that… nothing. He had to keep reminding himself that they’d only known each other for a month or so, and that really, if anything, they were still strangers. 

Bucky leaned up against the wall beside the corkboard, folding his arms and shooting an automatic smile at a girl in his class who walked by. Glancing into the art room, he was surprised but pleased to see what was unmistakably Steve’s small frame hunched over a sketchbook at one of the tables. Grinning broadly, he swung the door open and strode into the art room brightly.

“Hiya, Stevie!” 

It was only once these words had left his mouth that he noticed that Steve wasn’t alone. Perched on the stool next to him, ankles crossed neatly as she sat ramrod-straight and folded her hands in her lap to pose for the drawing, was a curvy brunette with short wavy hair and blood-red lipstick. Peggy Carter, his memory supplied after a moment, the English transfer bombshell in his class who had once kicked a guy in the head for trying to grope her and ended up hurting him so badly that he’d had to go to the hospital. Since then, the rest of the school had learned to admire her from a distance, but that didn’t make her any less admirable, if the commentary of Bucky’s friends was anything to go by.

Steve turned his head at the sound of Bucky’s voice, looking startled. 

“Oh! Hey, Buck! How’s it goin’?”

“Oh, fine…” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He hadn’t expected something like this when he’d been thinking about this that morning, and why did he ever think this would be simple? He should have known better. “Peggy,” he said, with a smile and a nod in her direction.

“James,” she said, giving him the same treatment. After an excruciatingly long moment of silence, she clapped her hands once, decisively, and stood up. 

“Right, Steve,” she said, taking a look at the drawing. “I think that’s quite enough for today, wouldn’t you?” Steve nodded slightly, not looking up from the movements of his pencil on the paper, and then let out a small, jokingly plaintive, “Nooo,” when he fully realized what she was saying. 

“I’ve still got to finish my Physics homework, anyway,” she said, leaning down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek, which shut him up quickly enough. 

“Bye, Steve!” she said as she headed towards the door, and he called a, “Seeya, Peg!” after her, looking a bit dazed. She smiled at Bucky on the way out, who pretended he hadn’t seen her, and then closed the door with a sense of finality, plunging the room into silence. 

Bucky felt incredibly awkward, which was… unlike him, to say the least. The sensation of being unable to find words was pretty new to him, actually.

“Sorry if I… interrupted somethin’,” he said after a long pause, and that seemed to snap Steve out of it, at least, although his hand was still resting on the cheek where she’d left a red lipstick mark. 

“No, no, it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Steve said, finally turning around properly and smiling at Bucky. “I was just drawin’ her, y’know, as thanks. She’s been loads of help with English homework and stuff.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bucky was quick to reply, although he immediately regretted it, because he was then left at a loss for what to say next. Instead, he pulled up a stool, wincing at the loud scraping sound, to sit next to Steve. Looking over his shoulder, he could get a good look at the drawing he’d been doing. He had to admit, it was lovely, an almost perfect resemblance sketched in dark brown pencil on the beige paper of the book. While it was clearly unfinished, with some sections lacking shading entirely, Steve had somehow managed to capture Peggy’s essence in the few strokes that represented her face.

“Wow, Steve,” he said eventually. “That’s seriously awesome.” 

“Thanks,” the other boy said, almost shyly, a far cry from his usual arrogance and prickliness. 

“How come you never told me you could draw like that?” Bucky asked, trying not to let any of the hurt bubbling inside him leak into his voice, but not being at all sure that he succeeded.

Steve shrugged. “I mean, it’s nothin’ special. Just like to do it for fun.” He was still staring at his drawing, eyes fixed on the lines on the paper, and he suddenly seized his eraser and scrubbed out a section of her chin, quickly redrawing it again, slightly differently, though what had been wrong with the original Bucky couldn’t tell.

“I think it’s amazing,” Bucky said softly. 

Steve smiled, and there was yet another long silence, though this one not quite so awkward, the air no longer buzzing with palpable tension. 

“Look, Steve,” he said, breaking the peaceful atmosphere because if he didn’t get this off of his chest it would kill him. Bucky took a deep breath and then just went for it. No turning back now. “About last night-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve cut him off sharply. “I get it. You were drunk, you didn’t know what you were sayin’.” His expression softened slightly. “I won’t tell anyone about you being, y’know, gay,” he continued, lowering his voice to a loud whisper, even though they were completely alone, “promise. I understand what it’s like, to have to stay in the closet.” There was a pregnant pause, and Steve looked for a moment as if he were going to go on, but he seemed to think better of it and shut his mouth, leaning back to sit up straight on his stool. 

“Actually, I’d just wanted to say thanks for takin’ care of me,” Bucky followed up with somewhat lamely. “I don’t remember much,” (that was a lie- his memory had been coming back all morning, in flashes and snippets as his mind rang with his own stupidity and how much he wished he could take back everything he’d said and done), “but I’m pretty sure you made sure I didn’t like, puke or something. So. Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Steve said, turning to face him so he could smile at him properly. “I know you’d do the same for me, right? That’s what friends are for, or whatever. I scratch your back, you’ll scratch mine, et cetera.”

“Yeah,” Bucky echoed weakly. “That’s what friends are for.”

* * *

Friends. Bucky didn’t know what else he could have expected, and he tried to quash the disappointment he was feeling as he sat down at his usual table in the cafeteria. He stayed mostly silent through lunch, smiling and laughing when necessary but tuning out the conversation entirely. He’d told himself near a million times since the morning that he shouldn’t be so obsessed over this, that he should focus on something else to get his mind off of things, but he couldn’t help it. His thoughts were stuck on Steve, on the slightly sour look on his face as he’d stomped all over Bucky’s plans to confess everything, and on the awed way he’d been looking at Peggy as he drew her. And of course he’d want Peggy, Bucky thought bitterly, who _wouldn’t_ want Peggy. She was perfect and poised and everything that he wasn’t. Not to mention a girl, and Steve had as of yet shown no interest in boys whatsoever, so it was ridiculous for Bucky to have ever thought he had a chance. Chin in his hand while he absently poked at the slice of pizza in front of him with his fork, he barely even noticed that everyone else had left.

Well, just about everyone.

He blinked and looked up, startled, when someone snapped their fingers right under his nose, and saw Dum Dum’s earnest face in front of him.

“Hey, Jimmy,” he said, and Bucky smiled tiredly. If anyone but Dum Dum or family had called him that, he’d not have responded, but best friends were a special case.

“Hey, Tim,” Bucky replied. Dum Dum took off his hat and set it down on the table, revealing his close-cropped wavy orange hair.

“Look, Bucky,” he continued, taking on a more serious tone. “I dunno what’s up with you, and I ain’t gonna pry, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m here for you, yeah? If you wanna talk or anythin’, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said simply, not really sure how else to reply. “Really, I’m fine, it’s just,” he started, trying to think of an excuse, and then everything came tumbling out at once. “There’s just… someone, someone I think I might really like, and I don’t know if- well, I don’t want to say anything because I’m terrified it won’t work out.” He paused, then finally looked up from the table where his gaze had been fixed to meet his friend’s blue eyes.

“I know how it feels,” he said, making a sympathetic face and patting Bucky on the arm. “It ain’t easy, that’s for sure. Trust me, I know. Way back before Verity and I were together, well, let’s just say I was pining after her for a long, long time. Things’re gonna get better, though. See how well it all worked-?”

The bell rang just then, obscuring the end of his phrase, and Dum Dum smiled broadly and stood up again, clapping Bucky on the arm. “And hey, dude,” he said as he flipped his bowler hat back onto his head, “whoever she is, she’s a lucky lady.”

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said, standing up reluctantly as well and making his way towards the cafeteria exit, tray in hand. The problem was exactly that- it wasn’t a lady. Chicks, he knew what to do with; he knew how to handle them. But Steve? Well, with Steve it was safe enough to say that he had no fucking idea what he was doing.

* * *

He couldn’t have told you how he made it through the rest of the day, but he did eventually, stumbling up the stairs and into the room and dropping his backpack heavily on the ground before collapsing onto his bed. The pain in his head had lessened to a dull throb, but he was sure as hell glad to not be doing anything anymore, even if it was just pretending to focus in class. Bucky lay there, face-down, for a good ten minutes, relaxing into the softness of his bed, before he heard his ringtone emitting from the smallest pocket of his backpack.

“Go away,” he moaned, muffled by the pillow up against his mouth, but after the third ring he got up, muscles complaining from the instant he started moving, and slouched his way to where he’d haphazardly dropped his bag, and promptly lay down on the floor, scrabbling around in his bag for his phone.

“Младшая Сестра” was written in big letters on the screen, followed by a close-up of a brown-haired, brown-eyed young girl making a face like she was trying to eat the camera.

Becca. Of course, he’d nearly forgotten that she called on Fridays. 

“What d’you want? ” Bucky was already saying when he smashed the green button with this thumb.

“Oh, hello to you too,” he heard from the other end of the line, and couldn’t help but smile slightly. It had been too long since they’d talked, and he’d missed the sarcastic tones of his sister’s voice. 

“No, I stick by my original statement,” he teased, and then mimicked himself from a moment earlier. “Whaddayawant?”

“Well, I _was_ calling to say hello to my _dearest_ brother whom I haven’t seen in _months_ but you know, if you’d rather not talk…”

“Cука,” Bucky said, laughing. “Okay, fine. I’m polite. How’s life been since you last texted me thirty-six hours ago?”

Becca giggled. “It’s been fine… Mrs Carver’s been super mean, though, she gave us like four hours of homework for the weekend…”

Bucky listened happily as his sister went on about the sufferings of seventh grade and how her classmates were all total bitches except that new girl, you know, Sonia? who was actually pretty nice only she seemed to be making eyes at Jared and well that was just unacceptable when _everyone_ knew that Becca had had a massive crush on Jared since, like, the fifth grade so she was _obviously_ just out of the loop because otherwise she’d obviously be more respectful, right? I mean, friends don’t date friends’ crushes, that’s just mean, y’know?

“Yeah, of course. No, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine,” Bucky replied at the required intervals, smiling and nodding even though he knew his sister couldn’t see him, and for about a half hour it almost felt like he was back home. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Becca added, after having gone on for quite a while about the haircut she wished she could have if their parents would only let her, “Mom wants me to tell you that she loves you and that she knows you can get better grades than that. I guess she got your report card e-mailed to her or something? Do they do that?”

“Yeah, every couple’a weeks,” Bucky said morosely. He knew his grades were shit, but it didn’t really help to be reminded of them all the time, even if it’s accompanied by an ‘I love you’ from his mother. 

Becca lowered her voice, saying the next part in a near whisper. “I can’t really say this ‘cause she’s in the room right now, but я знаю что ты делаешь лучше для себя и она просто шлюха.” Her Russian was stumbling and heavily accented, given that she had almost nobody to speak it with except for Bucky. It was still useful, though, as their adoptive parents didn’t understand a word of it. 

“Re _becca_!” he said, in a faux shocked voice. “What language! Our mother would be ashamed to hear that coming from your mouth.” 

She dissolved into laughter. “Well that’s why I said it in Russian! Duh!” They settled into a comfortable silence for a moment or two, with nothing but static on the line between them, and then Rebecca started up talking again.

“So, how was your day?”

“Holy shit, Becca,” Bucky said, flopping back onto the ground with the phone pressed to his ear, “the last few days have been… it’s best if I start from the beginning, actually. D’you remember I told you about the new kid? Steve Rogers?”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and lyrics from the Cœur de Pirate song Verseau.  
> Credit to Anya & Polina (some of the Russians who live down the hall) for the Russian translations!  
> Next up: Steve being confused and adorable.  
> UPDATE: I'm heading home for vacation this weekend, so I'll be travelling all day Friday/Saturday and then sleeping all day Sunday. Given my procrastination tendencies, that means that chapter four won't be at all near done, so I'm going to be skipping a week and posting it the Sunday after (May 3rd, I believe). Thank you all and sorry for the wait!
> 
> Translations:  
> "Младшая Сестра" was written in big letters on the screen.  
> "Little Sister"  
> “Cука,” Bucky said, laughing  
> "Bitch."  
> “I can’t really say this ‘cause she’s in the room right now, but я знаю что ты делаешь лучше для себя и она просто шлюха.”  
> "I know you're doing the best for yourself and she's just being a bitch."
> 
> Comments & Kudos much appreciated. (Feed my ego, before it ends up eating me!)


	4. printemps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a lot of worrying, Jacques talks some sense into Steve, and Steve talks some sense into Bucky (and then does quite a few other things with Bucky, too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh guys I'm so sorry that this is late! I had planned to write it Saturday but I got last-minute invited to Rocky Horror and had to make a costume real quick. But better late than never, yeah? I hope you all like it!
> 
> Credits & Translations in the end notes!

_mais toi tu ne sais pas que je t’aurais tout donné_  
_le jour où dans tes lunettes mon regard s’est plongé_

It had been about a week since the whole fiasco with drunk Bucky and the horribleness that had been the day after, and Steve found himself on edge almost constantly. Bucky had been avoiding him, that much was obvious, and they hadn’t actually spoken all weekend. The beginning of the week had been awkward, but they’d made it through class in mostly silence, only speaking to each other when it was necessary. Steve was confused, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what he’d said, exactly, but it had clearly made the other boy hate him, somehow. All that he’d done was his best to tell Bucky what he wanted to hear - that he understood that he couldn’t have meant what he was saying, that he’d keep his secret – and that seemed to have turned on him, because now he couldn’t even _talk_ to his friend.

He tried to forget about it by burying himself in his studies, but that was more depressing than distracting. The grades he was getting back were ticking down from nineties to eighty-fives to even lower, and Steve tried not to care too much but every time he got something back with a big red B- scrawled across the top he almost felt his heart sinking, although on some level he knew it was coming. All he could think about was how disappointed his mom must have been.

Not that she said it- Sarah had never said anything other than how proud of him she was, how she knew he had to be working as hard as he could and that she didn’t blame him at all for not being able to get the same grades he was used to. “After all, sweetie, this isn’t any old public school anymore, Lehigh has prestige. I’m sure you’re showing those rich folk what-for,” she’d tell him, laughing over the phone, and he’d try to swallow around the lump of guilt that rose in his throat. Because the truth was, he wasn’t trying his hardest and he knew it well. He’d been spending far too much time hanging out with his friends, and he was beginning to realize that having a social life came at the detriment to his grades. 

He was finding himself, again and again, propping his phone up on his pillow to have enough light to pore over pages of notes and textbooks. He understood practically none of what they were doing in Math now, and no matter how many times he reread the French grammar book he kept he just couldn’t figure out the purpose of the subjunctive. Not to mention his English work, which was suffering the worst as what were once actually study sessions with Peggy were now just time to hang out. He’d considered talking to Ms Wallington about getting some private help, or even a tutor of some sort, but he was terrified to let anyone down. He had to keep reminding himself that he was only here because they’d decided he was smart enough, and that he wasn’t actually paying like the others (as much as he detested them sometimes, Steve knew that they deserved to be here more than he did.) So if anyone knew how much he was actually struggling just to keep from failing, they’d probably kick him out straight away. 

So he just sighed and pressed on, determined not to let it show, not to anyone, but especially not to Bucky. Bucky, who was still avoiding him like he had the plague. It hardly helped with Steve’s mood, to say the least. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong, but clearly he’d done something, and it was nearly killing him every time his friend turned his head away stubbornly to avoid eye contact or responded to Steve’s questions with one-word answers or just nods. 

Eventually, it became so much of a distraction that he worked up the courage to just go talk about it. Well… not talk to Bucky about it, exactly. He didn’t think he’d be able to manage confronting him, at least not until he understood a little better. No, Steve just needed advice from a third party, someone who might have experience in this area, someone who wouldn’t gossip about his problems behind his back. That is to say, Jacques Dernier. 

Steve had started talking to the boy more to practice his French than anything, but he’d ended up taking a liking to him much more quickly than he would have expected. He was funny and helpful, and even if his humor was a little crass at times he was great at giving advice, from de-stressing to how to talk to girls. They’d become pretty close recently, so when Steve sat down next to him after class one day and opened his mouth to start spilling his problems, Jacques cut him off before he could even say a word.

“Ah, donc enfin tu viens me chercher. J’ai attendu ce moment pendant, genre, une semaine, mec! Alors, c’est quoi ton problème?”

“Comment?” Steve replied, taking a moment to figure out what the younger boy had said, and then responding in his own amateurish French. “How did- I mean, how did you know I- ?”

“Dude, it’s so obvious. You’ve been mopin’ around for the past couple of days without end, honestly it’s depressing.”

“Oh,” Steve said simply. He hadn’t been aware that he’d been so obviously upset. As far as he knew, he’d done a pretty good job covering up, laughing and making jokes at lunch just like he usually did, but apparently he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. “Well, okay, imagine that there’s someone I just realized I might like, and I’m sure- I mean, was sure- that he didn’t like me back, but now maybe he does, but he won’t talk to me about it and I don’t know what to do?” He went on to explain the situation fully, refraining from mentioning any names and hoping against hope that he’d managed to cover up his crush better than he had his sadness. He would have preferred a more neutral pronoun, but was limited by the language, and besides, Jacques already knew he was bi, so it didn’t matter all that much. He spilt everything, pausing only to figure out some of the more complex grammatical forms, and when he finished at last he looked down at his knees, his heart racing just from talking about it.

“Oh my god, you absolute idiot,” Jacques said when he finished, and Steve glanced up at him, confused. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t done anything idiotic. “Just fuckin’ talk to the guy, seriously. He _obviously_ likes you back, that’s why he’s not talkin’ to you now, because you fuckin’ shut him down when he tried to tell you.”

Steve frowned. That couldn’t be right, could it? Bucky had been awkward and embarrassed when he joined Steve in the art room that day, and he’d looked happy when Steve had relieved him from having to explain his drunken ramblings of the night before. And since then, he’d seemed angry, if anything. He just couldn’t figure out how that could lead to a conclusion of Bucky liking him. It was much more likely to mean that he hated him, and was just looking for an excuse to not have to talk to him anymore.

“But-” Steve protested, but Jacques cut him off.

“Shut it. None of this ‘but’ bullshit. You’re gonna go talk to him, and you’re gonna tell him everything that you just told me, from your perspective, and you’re gonna see that I’m right as hell. Now get out there! Go!”

Steve smiled weakly, and then sighed and stood up, wincing at the pain in his joints and his spine, and waved goodbye to Jacques, who responded with a wry, “À tout à l’heure, petit connard.”

* * *

As he walked back to Evergreen, Steve contemplated what Jacques had said, but couldn’t quite convince himself that the guy was right. He hadn’t been there, after all, he hadn’t seen the hesitant, almost apprehensive look on Bucky’s face when he’d started talking to Steve in the art room, and he hadn’t felt the ‘stay away from me’ vibes that had been practically radiating off of him ever since. Maybe with someone else, yeah, the signs would point to liking him back, but right now there was nothing to hint at anything along those lines. 

Still, the boy had been right about one thing. The only way this was going to get any better was if he talked to Bucky, and he’d been trying to psych himself up for it for the past hour or so. He was still incredibly apprehensive, though, and was having trouble thinking of any good way to confront his friend about it all. What could he say? ‘Hey there, I’ve been practically in love with you since we met, we’ve only known each other for a month but it makes me want to die when you don’t talk to me’? He couldn’t imagine that that would go over well. And even a watered-down version where he just confessed his hurt at being ignored in a completely platonic manner didn’t seem like it would turn out in his favor. Bucky would no doubt think he was being clingy, and hate him even more than he already did. 

When he got back to his room, he sprawled out on his bed and, after a moment, dug an old flip-phone out of his bag. He dialed the number rapidly, thumbs flying over the digits, and then pressed call, listening to the ringing.

“Mom?” he said when he heard it being picked up on the other side.

“Steve, honey, what’s the matter? You sound upset, is everything okay?” Steve almost laughed- was everyone around him psychic? How did they all know there was something up?

“Nothing- no, really Mom, nothing’s wrong,” he insisted when he heard her start to protest.

“Okay,” she said doubtfully, “but you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course,” he said, shifting onto his side. “No, I just wanted to call to check up on you.” 

Sarah laughed. “Isn’t that usually the mother’s job?” Steve smiled despite himself. “I’m doing well, just got home from school and I’m heading off to work in a couple of minutes, actually, I was about to go change out of my scrubs and into work clothes.” 

“Oh, right, ’m sorry to bother you, then.” 

“It’s okay, sweetie, I always love to hear from you. I really should go though…”

“All right,” Steve said. “Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Stevie,” Sarah said before Steve heard the click of her hanging up and then the quiet blare of the dial tone. He sighed and smiled slightly as he placed the phone on his bed, and then yanked his backpack up onto his bed, rifling through it for his agenda so he could get started on his homework. However, after looking over the relatively short list of assignments, he found himself instead just flopping back onto his bed and entertaining fantasies of Bucky. Mostly, he thought about them kissing, and you could hardly blame him for it. Bucky’s mouth looked like it was made to be kissed, and he was always biting his bottom lip when he focused, God, it was sinfully hot. Nobody should be allowed to be that good-looking. 

It would be a lie to say that Steve hadn’t imagined what Bucky would look like under his clothes, that he hadn’t, in the darkness before he fell asleep, thought about running his hands over Bucky’s chest, his own body flushed under his scratchy comforter. He’d known, of course, the inconveniences of having a roommate before he’d come here, but he never thought he’d be so bothered by the fact that the only time he was truly alone was in the shower, and even then there was usually someone banging on the door, telling him to hurry up and not to waste all the hot water. It’s not as if this had ever been much of a problem for him back home, after all, but on these late nights, with images of Bucky in his mind, he found himself wishing he didn’t have to worry about Hodge in the bed next to his. 

But as attracted as he was to Bucky physically, Steve knew that it was more than that, because he was equally excited at the idea of even just holding hands with him while they walked, or having a picnic in the park, or even just cuddling in front of a movie marathon. God, Steve wanted to do all of the couple things he’d always thought of as painfully corny. He wanted to buy Bucky freaking flowers for Valentine’s Day and go on dates and paint pictures of him and everything, and it was to thoughts of this that he resolved himself to finally talk to Bucky, after dinner, in hopes of fixing things as much as he could. The struggle of going on as friends and pretending he wasn’t painfully attracted to Bucky was still better than the struggle of being completely separated like this.

* * *

Dinner was a stiff, silent affair in which he and Monty tried to make conversation and Steve tried to avoid looking at Bucky, who was sitting with his roommates and chatting animatedly with them. Every time he saw them, he felt a pang of jealousy, and he was halfway beating himself up about feeling so upset just about one stupid boy and halfway beating himself up for being so afraid to go talk to him. 

“Yeah, of course,” he said, although he had no idea what Monty had just asked him.

“Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for the sort of fellow to do drugs in general, but I mean-”

“Sorry, wait, what? What was the question?” Steve asked, snapping back to the conversation at hand and wondering what on earth he’d just agreed to doing. Monty laughed loudly. 

“I was just telling you about the time Bucky and I got really high and he convinced me to eat a worm, that’s all.”

“Bucky, uh,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “Bucky smokes weed?”

“Every once in a while, yeah. When the mood strikes, or whatever.” 

Steve nodded thoughtfully, trying not to look like he felt as awkward as he did, but he honestly had no idea what to say to the other boy. 

Eventually, finally, he saw Bucky stand up and make his goodbyes to the rest of the group, and Steve stood up so quickly he banged his leg on the table. 

“Sorry man, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you later.” Before he even got a chance to hear Monty’s response, Steve grabbed his tray, rushed to drop it off, and then half-walked, half-ran until he caught up to Bucky, who was making his way to the stairs. 

“Bucky!” he called, and when he got no response, he yelled it slightly louder over the noise of students chatting as they headed upstairs, causing his friend to turn around, eyebrows raised.

“What?” he asked, looking agitated. Steve approached him at the foot of the stairs, wanting to place a hand on his arm but aborting the motion before it really started, not wanting to get things started on a bad foot.

“We need to talk.” 

Bucky, if that was possible, put on an expression that was even more ticked-off looking.

“I’ve got stuff to do, Steve, can we do this another time?”

“Bucky, please.” He tried not to let the desperation creep into his voice, but honestly he was already feeling on the verge of either yelling or crying, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Bucky looked concerned, and took a few steps towards him.

“Fine, but not here. C’mon.”

They walked in silence, Bucky leading him down hallway after hallway, until they walked halfway up one of the winding staircases and Bucky opened a door on the tiny landing. 

“After you,” he said wryly, and Steve stepped outside, shivering slightly at the chill. His bare toes curled at the cold pebbles that covered the ground, which was dirt over stone underneath them, and looked out at the small balcony they were on. It was about the size of his room, all together, and apart from a few sparse weeds poking out from between the pebbles, there was nothing except for the two of them and the cool night air. Bucky stepped over to the edge and sat down, and Steve followed him, dismissing a few cursory fears about the lack of railing and the fact that if he fell he’d probably break something important, if he even survived.

“I’ve never brought anyone out here before,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “Dunno if we’re allowed or not, but it’s a good place to think.” Steve made a quiet noise of assent, looking out at the view.

The sun had already set, but there were still a few streaks of red lighting up the distant horizon, and behind them the crescent moon shone bright, a few stars twinkling up above. Steve turned his head to look at Bucky, and caught his breath. The other boy was beautiful in the silvery light, his dark hair and thick lashes making his face look pale in comparison, and Steve wasn’t sure what he was feeling but a shiver ran down his spine.

“So?” Bucky said eventually. “You wanted to talk?”

“Right,” Steve said, not wanting to end the moment but knowing he had to. “It’s just… well, you’ve been avoidin’ me recently, obviously, and you won’t even say anything to me anymore, and I don’t know if we’re just s’posed to not talk about it or what you’re expectin’ me to do, but I can’t stand it anymore, Buck, you’re my best friend-” He got more and more worked up as he talked, standing up and walking away from the edge as his voice rose in pitch.

“Am I?” Bucky said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, getting up as well and leaning against the wall. “I don’t know, you seemed to be havin’ a fine time with Peggy the other day.” 

There was a long silence, and then Steve replied with an incredulous, “ _What?_ ” 

Bucky went on, his voice sounding bitter. “I’m just sayin’, you seemed to be really fuckin’ enjoyin’ her company, y’know? Don’t need a friend like me when you’ve got someone like her, and I get it, so I’m just not gonna bother you anymore, I’ll let you be.”

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Steve was boiling with rage, and that sure shut Bucky up. “You’re tellin’ me that you haven’t talked to me for a _week_ because you were- what, _jealous_ of Peggy? Because I have friends outside of you?” Bucky tried to say something, but Steve didn’t even acknowledge him, barreling onwards. “Hate to break it to you, Buck, but you’re not the only person in my life! You might have been the first one here to accept my sorry ass for a friend, sure, but that doesn’t give you the right to consider me your _property_ , or I don’t even know what, because God knows what the hell goes on in your goddamn idiot head.”

“Steve, it’s not-”

“No, I don’t wanna hear it!” Steve shouted, and he had to look away because even the sight of Bucky was making him even angrier. “There is no possible excuse you could have for givin’ me the cold shoulder this whole time. D’you know how much that hurt? How long I spent tryin’ to figure out what I’d done wrong to get you pissed off at me? I’ve got feelings, you know, you can’t just mess with me like that. I’m not your friggin’ charity case, you can’t just start off bein’ my friend and then drop me and move on the second I start hanging out with other people too.”

He would have gone on, too, about anything and everything. He knew he was flushed red and yelling much louder than he probably should if they didn’t want to be caught by someone, but he didn’t care, he hadn’t been this frustrated and angry in years. Bucky had approached him, though, and was talking again, and Steve let him go on this time.

“Steve, Steve, I didn’t mean it like that, you can’t just assume it’s like that-”

“Then what’s it like, Bucky?” Steve snapped. “Because I don’t know _shit_ about how you mean anything, since you won’t talk to me and you won’t tell me what you think. So yeah, I had to assume. I’d apologize, but it’s your goddamn fault.” 

“It’s not my fault!” Bucky said, defensive, and Steve saw with a shock that there were tears in his eyes. “You’re damn right you don’t know shit about what I think, but that’s _your_ fuckin’ fault, buddy, because you don’t ever ask, you don’t ever want to _hear_ what I have to say, you just fuckin’ assume that it’s one way or another, and maybe that works out great for you, but you know what? The rest of us have feelings too, and I’m not that happy that you’re completely ignorin’ every fuckin’ one I’ve got. You’re a fuckin’ lost cause, Steve, and at this point I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get through to you.”

“The hell’re you on about…” Steve said, but it was half-hearted and quiet, because he’d suddenly realized that Bucky was only inches away from him, their faces so close that he could almost feel the heat radiating off the other boy. His heart was racing and his knees were weak, and he didn’t think it was because of the anger anymore. “Buck, I-” he stuttered, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he tried to look Bucky in the eye.

And then Bucky was surging forward to kiss him, his hands flying up to pin Steve to the cold wall. The shock of pain in his shoulders and elbows as they hit the concrete was immediately forgotten as he leaned into it and kissed back, eyes fluttering shut, tilting his head and reaching up to bury his hand in Bucky’s hair. His lips were warm and soft and _perfect_ , and Steve’s head was spinning as any thoughts he might have were immediately evaporated by the feel of Bucky’s mouth against his own.

When they finally broke apart to breathe, Steve kept his eyes closed for a long moment, and when he opened them he saw Bucky staring down at him, red lips parted and pupils dilated, his hair mussed. He looked so damn perfect that Steve couldn’t help but to tilt his head up and kiss him again, and again, their lips moving in tandem as Steve pressed his body up against Bucky. He was burning up, hyperaware of every place that they were touching, his arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck and the brunet’s hands still resting on his shoulders, pressing him up against the wall. He could feel Bucky’s tongue run across his lower lip, and opened his mouth willingly. He kissed him almost desperately, but slowly, carefully, afraid to cross some line and have it all stop, afraid that at any moment Bucky would change his mind and this would end.

Eventually, after what could have been minutes or hours, Bucky leaned back, ending the kiss, and Steve looked at the ground, standing up properly and straightening his shirt. He was breathing heavily, almost to the point where he’d be worried about his asthma if it got much worse, and he could practically feel that his face and ears were bright red. Bucky stepped back, giving Steve the space to take a few steps away from the wall, and that left them standing there, facing each other and not quite sure what to say or do.

“We’re idiots,” Steve said finally, forcing a smile.

“Hell yeah we are,” said Bucky, running a hand through his hair to neaten it a bit. “If I’d known we could have been doing _that_ , I would have started fighting with you a hell of a lot sooner.” Steve laughed, still feeling almost detached, as if this couldn’t possibly actually be happening. Hesitantly, Steve reached out to take Bucky’s hand, and tugged him to come sit down on the edge, where they’d been before- just minutes ago, he realized, although it certainly didn’t feel like it. The sun was completely gone now, the sky dark velvet speckled with stars, and Steve gently leaned his head on Bucky’s shoulder as they looked up at the sky. 

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky murmured, and Steve made a quiet noise of assent. “ _You’re_ beautiful,” he continued. At that, Steve sat up, looking Bucky in the eyes. 

“Not half as much as you are,” he said, leaning in to kiss him again, and then again, softly and sweetly. They sat there, kissing in the dark, until eight, when they ran downstairs, panicked and afraid they’d missed roll call, only to find that they were early and spent a few minutes fixing their hair and trying to look like they hadn’t just been making out for half an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Ah, donc enfin tu viens me chercher. J’ai attendu ce moment pendant, genre, une semaine, mec! Alors, c’est quoi ton problème?"  
> "Oh, so you finally come looking for me. I've been waiting for this for, like, a week, dude! So, what's your problem?"
> 
> "Comment?"  
> "What?"
> 
> “À tout à l’heure, petit connard.”  
> "Later, you little dumbass."
> 
> Title & lyrics are, as usual, by Coeur de Pirate.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments & kudos keep me writing ^_^
> 
> Next up: Steve & Bucky trying to make it as a couple.


	5. le long du large

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky is both worried and adorable, Czechoslovakia is discussed, and picnics are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha guys this chapter is basically just 5k of fluff.
> 
> Also, I'm _so_ sorry for not having posted last week, I was travelling all Sunday and packing on Saturday, so I really didn't get a chance to write. Hopefully I should be back to regularly scheduled updates now? (That is, weekly on Sundays.) 
> 
> Also also, I added another four chapters to the projected total, bringing it to fifteen. I have no self-control and this fanfic is taking over my life. Please help.

_trace le long du large et le sang dépouillé des efforts souillés_  
_par le temps des vagues, celles qui poussent nos souvenirs sur les plages formées de rires_

All through the day, Bucky couldn’t stop smiling. He knew it made him look like an idiot, but he just couldn’t keep the enormous grin off of his face every time he thought of Steve. Several times, he had to cover his face to keep from literally giggling, and he didn’t know what had gotten into him but he’d never been this ridiculously happy just from a few kisses. He’d never felt this good about being with somebody before. 

Even though he wasn’t even really sure that they _were_ together. He hoped they were, that everything that happened last night meant that Steve had understood and reciprocated his feelings, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk to the guy since. They didn’t see each other again until lunch, when Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when the blond sat down next to him, grinning widely and greeting everyone with a cheerful, “Hi, guys!” 

Dum Dum raised his eyebrows, cracking a smile as well. Even to the rest of them, Steve’s happiness was infectious, but Bucky had to hide the fact that he was grinning ear-to-ear. “What’s got you in such a good mood, kid?”

“Oh, nothing,” Steve said happily, grabbing his fork and digging into the misshapen lump of fish on his plate. Frenchie turned to mutter something to Gabe, whose eyes went wide with apparent shock until his face lit up with laughter. Steve, suddenly severe, pointed his fork (with a morsel of food still on it) at Frenchie.

“Tu te tais, ou je te tue,” he said loudly, causing the two of them to erupt into snickers again.

“Um?” Bucky asked, feeling like he was missing something. 

“’ll explain later,” Steve murmured, and the table’s attention shifted from them to Jim, who had somehow managed to launch a piece of broccoli into the air that landed on Monty and made him start yelling about Jim being a wanker and the rest of them making fun of his accent, as usual. Bucky tried to listen for a few minutes, but a moment later he felt Steve’s hand cover his own under the table, and happiness spread through him, radiating from the point where he could feel Steve’s fingertips brushing against the back of his hand. He turned his own hand around and laced their fingers together, smiling when he felt Steve gently squeeze his hand. They stayed like that all the way until the end of lunch, when Bucky realized he still had an English assignment to finish before his class next period and hurried off with a loud, “Oh, fuck!”, leaving the rest of the table laughing and finishing up their lunch.

As he scribbled down some bullshit answers to the reading comprehension questions that were due in about ten minutes, he still couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from tugging themselves up into a small smile. Even in English class, when he and his desk partner, Robert Ralston, weren’t making fun of Mr. Sulley’s lisp (“Okay clath, up nektht let’th talk about thome of the overarthing themeth…”), Robert was teasing him about whatever (“Or _who_ ever!”, eyebrow waggle, wink,) was making him smile dreamily. And Bucky had to admit, he was smiling dreamily. Chin in his hands, staring off into space, goofy in-love expression on his face, the whole thing. It was like his life had suddenly become one of those terrible teen romance movies that Becca used to make him watch with her when she was little, and he grudgingly obliged if only to watch her squeal and cover her eyes when the kiss scenes came on. And he was the cliché protagonist, fallen harder than he ever has before and not really sure what to do about it. Because he _hasn’t_ ever felt this before, not to this extent. Sure, he’d had flings in the past, even dated people, before he came to Lehigh. He’d gone out with Kevin for, what, six months? 

But even then, throughout that whole relationship, he’d never felt quite so weak at the knees as he did around Steve. Part of him was chastising himself for being so stupid about it, but the rest of him was too busy melting every time the blond so much as smiled at him. Bucky wanted to tell someone about it, he really did, because he was just bursting with feelings and if he’d had less self-control he’d probably squeal.

It hurt that he couldn’t, honest. Dum Dum had always been so open and kind to him, had almost taken him in back in freshman year when he’d arrived at Lehigh, confused and fucked up inside, and here he was repaying him by keeping secrets. Keeping what was, when he thought about it, the biggest thing in his life right now from his best friend for two years was something he wished with all his heart he didn’t have to do. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice, really. After what happened before he came here… well, at the very least, he had no intention of putting his parents and his sister through all of that bullshit again, even if he didn’t give any more of a fuck about himself than he had then. And Bucky was better, here, he could see that well enough. 

Sure, part of it was removal from a toxic atmosphere, and part of it was the oppressive near-24/7 surveillance of the Heads of House, but he wasn’t an idiot, he knew that staying in the closet helped as well. His friends might have been accepting, but he knew better than to think nothing would change if he came out. And he couldn’t lose them, he just couldn’t. Then he’d have nobody again. As much as he would have liked to think he’d be okay without his friends, he knew he wouldn’t. Bucky needed people, needed to confide in them.

Which made it even worse that he couldn’t actually _confide_ anything in them. 

Bucky exhaled loudly and buried his head in his hands, eventually glancing up through his fingers to make sure that Mr. Sulley was still far enough away from his place in the back of the classroom, and then lowered his gaze again. This was all a mess. _He_ was a mess. And he needed to have a talk with Steve, he knew it. Not that he didn’t know the other boy wouldn’t respect his desire to keep things secret for now. After he’d managed to come out to him when he was drunk as hell, and even this whole time that he’d been being a bitch to Steve, he hadn’t said a word to any of their friends. So he wasn’t afraid that Steve was going to go blabbing to everyone or anything. He knew him better than that. He just felt like he owed the guy a bit more of an explanation than he’d currently gotten, given that what he’d currently gotten was… nothing at all. 

He wasn’t sure how he made it through the rest of the school day. Despite English being boring as hell with only Robert to distract him from nearly falling asleep in class, he managed to be caught up enough to forget that next period was History which meant that, yes, he got to spend it with Steve. When he remembered that, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning again.

Waving goodbye to Robert, who directed a peace sign at him in return, Bucky slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the classroom as quickly as possible, out the door before the bell even finished ringing. 

Even as he walked down the hallway and up the stairs, he had to try to keep himself from skipping. Every time he so much as thought about Steve, a thrill of elation ran through him, because they were _together_ , they were a _thing_ now. Steve liked him _back_. Or at least, he sure as hell was acting like he did. Bucky made a mental note to clarify the matter later that day- potentially at the same time as he said all of the other important things he had to say. He was still trying to think it through as he entered the history classroom, dumping his bag onto his table and mumbling a good afternoon to Mr. Tekin. He turned his chair around, sitting on it backward and facing the front of the class, still lost in thought as he placed his chin in his hand and stared off into space.

Bucky was so distracted that he actually almost jumped a moment later when he felt a pair of cold hands cover his eyes. 

“Guess who?” a voice said cheekily, and this time Bucky couldn’t do anything to stop the small smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth.

“I know it’s you, Stevie,” he said, and the hands withdrew, replaced by the small blond who plopped himself down into his habitual seat next to Bucky, pouting.

“Aww, how could you tell?”

“Your voice, dumbass,” Bucky laughed. “Not to mention that I don’t have any other friends in this class. And Jesus, your hands’re freezing,” he added, gingerly touching around his eyes where Steve’s hands had been a moment before and finding it significantly colder than the rest of his face. 

“Oh, are they really?” Steve said slyly. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to hold ‘em for me to warm me up, huh?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He had kind of walked into that, after all, and he wasn’t about to deny him anyway. So he took the hands that Steve offered, gently squeezing. Steve’s slender fingers curled around his own, and wow his hands really were freezing.

“What did you do, dunk ‘em in a bucket of ice water?” he asked. Steve chuckled.

“No, the hot water in the bathroom’s broken, you know that.” Bucky did know that, actually, although he’d forgotten. 

“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Steve’s hands softly. Steve closed his eyes and hummed quietly, evidently pleased. Bucky was just trying not to let it show on the outside that at least in his brain, he felt like he was vibrating with excitement, just from this small sign of affection. 

Bucky had just opened his mouth to say something else, maybe to ask something along the lines of _So does this mean that we’re a couple now?_ or _Being near you makes me feel weak at the knees_ or even, if he just gave up and lost any brain-to-mouth filter he ever had, _I’ve been madly in love with you since September, please say this all means you feel the same way._ He could have said any of those things, but instead he was interrupted mid-breath by the slow, deep voice of Mr. Tekin.

“Okay, class, settle down, settle down now.” 

The loud chatting and shrieks of laughter from the rest of the juniors quieted to whispers, and as the class started, Bucky reluctantly pulled his hands back. Steve gave him an apologetic smile, turning to face the front of the classroom and reaching into his bag for a notebook and pencil case. Bucky pulled out his laptop, dropped it unceremoniously on the table (causing Steve to wince and whisper, “Careful! That’s gotta be expensive!”), and opened it up. He typed in his password, fingers flying over the keys, and opened a new Word document quickly. Honestly, in this day and age, how anyone still wrote on paper was beyond him. 

Admittedly, he spent the majority of the first half of the class scrolling through his Facebook feed and playing mindless games. He jotted down a few bullet points on the document, just copying whatever Mr. Tekin wrote on the board, but even Solitaire was a better way to keep himself occupied than trying to just focus on listening to the droning, monotone voice. 

The second half was, thankfully, an activity, which spared Bucky the pain of trying to find something to do, because he was going to fall asleep if he was lectured for much longer. It was supposed to be a group activity, and while Bucky and Steve paired up automatically, they also grabbed the two people in the seats in front of them, and the four of them got to work. Bucky turned to Steve, saying “I’m the scribe, because I for one am totally lost. Just tell me what to write.”

“Okay,” Steve said, moving his chair so that he could properly see Bucky’s computer. It brought them close enough that Steve’s cheek was millimeters away from Bucky’s when he leaned in and squinted to get a better look at the screen, and Bucky felt the space between them as if it were a tangible thing. “So,” Steve continued, seemingly unaware of the fact that Bucky wasn’t even looking at the computer anymore. 

“I guess we’re s’posed to take this document and fill in the blank spaces next to the dates with explanations of the events?”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds right,” Bucky said, swallowing and feeling his skin heat up as Steve reached across him to scroll down. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like him to get this flustered, and frankly it was ridiculous. If they were away from the rest of the world, he’d definitely be kissing Steve right now. As it was, he worried his lower lip with his teeth and tried to focus on the document at hand, tried to ignore the fact that Steve’s upper arm was pressed up against his chest as he clicked something and then nodded, sitting back down normally. 

“Okay, so you can just type what I tell you, then.” 

“Sure,” Bucky said agreeably, though first he stood up and turned his chair around so that he could type properly. Steve started dictating, glancing to his notes and then back at the screen often as he did so, and Bucky filled in the boxes one by one, barely listening to what he was writing down. 

“Nineteen sixty-eight, the invasion of Czechoslovakia – yeah, it’s spelled c-z, you were right – by the Soviet army, who also had help from many of their allies from the Warsaw Pact, causing a wave of Czechoslovakians to flee the country – no wait, you should put a number in there, uh, here it says nearly three hundred thousand, wow, - and this was because of something called the Prague Spring, which the Soviets objected to because of its liberalizations, and I swear to god, Bucky, if you don’t stop biting your lip like that I’m gonna hafta kiss you right here in the middle of class.” 

It took Bucky a good several seconds to realize that he was not, in fact, meant to type that part, and another ridiculously long time before he gleaned any meaning from it. 

When he finally did, he blushed and stopped biting down on his lip, something he hadn’t even realized he was doing. Glancing at Steve almost shyly, he found that the tips of the blond’s ears were also flushed red, but his face was set and he showed no other evidence of being at all awkward about what he’d just said.

“Uh… I’m… ‘m sorry?” Bucky stuttered, cursing himself for having responded in what was probably the stupidest way possible. Where had his flirting gone, his usual witty banter? He’d never had any problems with this before, and now here he was, unable to even form a real sentence around Steve. He really had to get himself together, and the way Steve was looking at him now, one eyebrow raised suggestively behind those goddamn stupidly hot thick-rimmed glasses was just not helping. 

Steve laughed loudly at Bucky’s obvious discomfort, and threw an arm around his shoulders in what could easily just be a friendly gesture, but Bucky knew Steve well enough to know that he wasn’t usually this touchy-feely with his friends- or at least, he never had been with Bucky, although if he really had liked him before now then it was also completely possible that he’d just been avoiding touching him for that reason, and that he was always this cuddly. Bucky realized that he didn’t really know, but he didn’t think he’d much mind finding out. His brain flooded with thoughts about what it would be like to kiss Steve again or just to hug him properly, he finished up typing the events to Steve’s dictation.

* * *

One class period later, after struggling with the Plusquamperfekt tense for almost the entire hour, Bucky was finally free for the weekend. And the first thing he was going to do was what he had spent the entirety of German class planning out (which, in hindsight, might have explained some of his conjugation issues, namely his inability to focus on anything Ms. Mueller was telling them.) He hurried back to Evergreen, getting to the hall before any of the other students, and went straight to raid the kitchen before anyone else could get there.

If he’d calculated correctly… He opened the freezer roughly, glancing around until he saw the box of left over ice cream bars from lunch yesterday. Perfect. Not trusting the rest of the house in the slightest, Bucky grabbed the whole box and brought it with him. Stopping by the linen closet on the way up, he grabbed a large sheet, covered in small pictures of Spongebob, and dragged it upstairs as well. Once in his room, he pulled out a bag of chips that he’d stashed in his closet after they’d gone into town last weekend. He dumped all the stuff in a small pile and then, cursing, ran back down to the kitchen, where he was relieved to find three cans of Minute Maid lemonade in the fridge, grabbing them all and bringing them up too. Shoving everything into the sheet, which he tied up into a sort of bag, he gave Happy Sam a cursory, “Hello, goodbye!” as he passed him in the doorway, and then raced down the stairs again.

He didn’t slow down until he was behind the hall, leaning up against the huge oak tree that had been his and Steve’s place, at least at the beginning of the year. Recently, Steve had been too busy with homework or Bucky had been too out of sorts to spend time together, but this still felt like a better place than any to do this, now that they were… well, now that things were different.

He took everything out of his makeshift sack and shook out the sheet, which billowed in the slight breeze. It was just hovering on the edge of cold, warmer than usual for mid-October but definitely not actually warm. Enough that Bucky was comfortable enough in his hoodie, at least, although he shivered slightly when the wind blew. 

He laid everything out on the sheet haphazardly, and then, glancing over it to make sure it was fine, ran back into Evergreen and up all three flights of stairs to Steve’s room. 

Unfortunately, once he got there, he found nothing but a disgruntled-looking Hodge, who told Bucky, significantly louder and angrier-sounding than was necessary, that he hadn’t seen Steve and to please get the hell out of his room. Bucky, feeling affronted, headed downstairs at a more reasonable pace now, and wasn’t very surprised to find Steve in the study hall. This time at least, he didn’t get a chance to surprise him in return, because Steve saw him as soon as he entered the doorway, and had paused his music and taken out one earphone well before he got near him. 

“I gotta surprise for you, Steve, c’mon.”

Steve gave him an apologetic look – and he really did look pained, as if he would do anything not to have to say this, but – “Buck, I got a lotta stuff to do…” he said gesturing at the open books and papers piled up around him. “We’ve got that research project in Physics ‘n everything.”

“C’mon, Stevie, pleeeease.” Bucky was willing to lower himself to begging. He wasn’t about to have set all of that stuff up for nothing. “It’s Friday, you got the whole weekend to do homework if you want. Spend a little time with me?” He purposefully began to make the most pathetic face he could, eyes wide and lower lip pushed out, and he knew it made him look like a kicked puppy. So far, nobody but Rebecca was able to consistently resist the kicked puppy face, and Steve, it appeared, was no exception.

“All right,” he sighed, taking the other earphone out and shutting off his iPod, “but then I’ve got lots to do this weekend, so no complaints when I’m gonna be busy then.” 

“Me? Complain? You must be joking,” Bucky said happily, and Steve scoffed sarcastically, but still followed him to the door, pulling on his shoes, which had been sitting neatly in the hallway. He led Steve all the way out back to the tree, covering his eyes with his hands when they got close, and then took his hands away when they were a few feet from the setup, Steve laughing about having nearly fallen over twice.

“Aw, Buck, you smudged my glasses,” was the first thing he said when he could see again, but when he went to take them off he noticed the blanket and the food items spread across it. 

“Did you-” he started, and then looked down, grinning in an embarrassed manner. “Is this for us?” 

Bucky nodded, unsure if that was a positive reaction or not. He was spared having to wonder for long by the fact that Steve threw his arms around his waist and hugged him tightly.

“I love it,” he murmured, softly enough that Bucky could almost believe he hadn’t said anything, and then just as quickly he let go of Bucky and ran over to the blanket, sitting down smack in the middle of it and beginning to look at what Bucky had brought.

“Chips, that’s great, I love chips,” Steve was saying to himself when Bucky joined him. “Dude, lemonade! Oh my god, you’re the best,” he continued, and Bucky sat down next to him, not quite touching but close enough that they could be. He was still nervous, and more than he probably should be, unsure whether he could give in to his desire to kiss the other boy and afraid that Steve wouldn’t be okay with it if he did. Steve quickly dispelled any illusions he may have had about keeping his distance when, having finished going through the somewhat meager amount of food that was there, he grabbed Bucky by the front of his hoodie and pulled him into a kiss.

Surprised but hardly complaining, Bucky leaned into it after a moment, pressing himself up against Steve and deepening the kiss.

“Steve- Stevie, wait,” he said, laughing breathlessly when they both surfaced for air. 

“What?” Steve said innocently, batting his eyelashes as he reached for one of the cans of lemonade and popped open the tab. He was purposefully making himself look as adorable as possible, Bucky knew it, and what’s worse is that he was succeeding. Just remembering what Steve had said in class earlier about Bucky biting his lip managed to send a thrill of desire through him, and he leaned forward to kiss him again, softly and gently this time. Steve seemed to have a different idea, though, and kissed him more aggressively than he’d expected, putting down the lemonade and reaching up to tangle one hand in Bucky’s hair, pulling them even closer together.

Eventually, they had to break apart, although it took everything Bucky had not to kiss him again, with the way his face was flushed like that, pupils dilated and hair mussed.

“Steve, you little shit,” he said quietly, but Steve was keeping up the innocent act.

“I didn’t do anything!” he said, mock-offended, eyes twinkling as he grinned.

“You’re a punk,” Bucky teased.

“Jerk,” Steve replied fondly.

There was a moment of silence, both of them smiling as they looked at each other, but the atmosphere quickly sobered up as Bucky remembered what he’d set this all up for.

“Steve, we gotta talk,” he said, grabbing a lemonade himself and taking a few sips.

“Yeah, we do,” Steve said simply. Bucky took a breath, and then got started, saying what he was loath to admit he’d rehearsed in his head a million times before they got here.

“Okay, so first off, I have to apologize,” he said, taking Steve’s hands into his own and looking him in the eyes. “It was fucked up of me to act like that, and I shouldn’t’ve. I was taking it out on you ‘cause I thought you didn’t like me back, and... I dunno, I guess I thought that it’d be easier for me if I ignored you than if I had to keep hanging out and pretending I only thought of you as a friend. It was selfish, and I was jealous, and I didn’t even think of your feelings which was also stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry, Stevie.” He exhaled all in a rush, unable to meet Steve’s gaze any longer, and looking down at the ground.

“’s okay, Buck,” Steve said, and that was enough to cause Bucky to smile at the Spongebob-patterned sheet and then look back up at him as Steve pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I get it. And I’m sorry, too. I had no idea that you- well, I guess I just should have picked up on the signs earlier,” he said, cracking a smile. “I thought it was absolutely ridiculous that you could like someone like me, someone so, well.” He didn’t finish his sentence, but cocked his head and smiled in a self-deprecating manner. “You know what I mean.” 

“Stevie, you gotta stop saying things like that,” Bucky said. 

Steve scoffed. “Yeah? Gimme one reason why.”

“’cause it’s not true,” he responded. “There’s nothing about ‘someone like you’ that’d make anyone not want you.”

“Bucky,” Steve said patiently, “I know you’re bein’ nice but you don’t hafta lie. It’s not like I’m not aware that I’m pretty damn far from what most guys’d consider attractive. To be honest, I still dunno why you’re into me at all.”

“’re you kidding me?” Bucky exclaimed. “Steve, I’m into you because you’re fuckin’ _gorgeous_. Seriously.” 

“Mhmm,” Steve said skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll find out your real reasoning someday.”

“That is my real reason! I swear,” Bucky protested, but Steve wouldn’t hear it.

“You’re prob’ly a spy or something. You speak Russian, right? You’re part of the mafia, I knew it!” The two of them dissolved into laughter, and Bucky took another sip of his lemonade before getting back to more serious subjects. 

“Look, I know you know I’m not exactly open, about my sexuality, to the rest of the school,” Bucky started, which was met with an understanding nod from Steve. “And I can’t, Steve, I just can’t come out to them all.” He bit his lip nervously. “I hope that doesn’t mean we can’t be together, but I just…” he trailed off into silence, not really knowing where to go from there. There was a heavy pause, and then Steve spoke quietly.

“Can I ask why?” 

He asked almost carefully, as if he were worried he was going to upset Bucky. “I’d… I’d rather not talk about it,” he said darkly. He knew this was a conversation they had to have, but he would have preferred to avoid it forever. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” Steve said, taking a breath. “I’m not about to say we can’t be together just ‘cause we can’t be open about it. I’d obviously prefer not to have to hide, but I’m sure you’ve got a good reason.” 

“Oh, Stevie, thank you,” Bucky gushed, relieved beyond belief. If Steve had said no, he didn’t know what he would have done. More than anything, he wanted to be with Steve, but he was just so afraid that if he told everyone about himself, that the same thing would happen as last time. It was easier, far easier just to pretend, to go out with girls and tell them he loved them even though he felt nothing when they kissed, tell them things weren’t working out and omitting that they hadn’t ever worked and never would have.

“While we’re on the subject, though, I should mention,” Steve said, pulling Bucky from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“I did tell Jacques that there was a guy. That’s what that was all about at lunch, y’know?” Bucky nodded, waiting for Steve to go on. “Anyway, he doesn’t know who, I was careful not to say your name, but he does know there’s a guy. And Gabe prob’ly does, too, since those two tell each other everything.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. He didn’t know Frenchie very well at all – mostly due to the fact that they had no shared language – but Gabe, at least, he trusted. Not to the point of wanting to tell him or anything, but enough that he thought he’d be respectful enough if he managed to figure it out.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said. “And, y’know, my parents know, and my sister. It’s just the people here that I don’t… that I can’t…” He didn’t manage to finish the sentence, but Steve seemed to get the gist of what he was saying.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. After a minute or two, Bucky reached for the bag of chips and pulled it open, beginning to snack on them casually. 

“So,” Steve said eventually. 

“So.” 

“Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?” 

Bucky couldn’t believe he was blushing at a question like that, but he sure as hell was, he could just feel his cheeks heating up. Steve didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed, and if anything he was looking pleased with himself for having made Bucky turn red.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grinning widely. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

After another moment of quiet, Steve snatched the chips right out of Bucky’s hands and stretched himself out on his stomach. Bucky made an offended noise and reached for them, but Steve held the bag just out of his reach. 

“Steeeeve,” he whined, not wanting to actually get up from his comfortable position, but the blond just smiled and refused to give in. 

“You want ‘em, you come an’ get ‘em,” he teased. Bucky reached again, far enough that he managed to screw up his balance and fall over onto Steve. 

“Ow!” he complained, “You’re too bony, holy shit.” Steve burst into laughter, and Bucky started to get up, making it to his knees and then giving Steve a small whack to the back of the head.

“Hey! Screw you,” Steve said, flipping over so he was on his back and looking up at Bucky. He started trying to reach up and hit him back, but Bucky kept his arms pinned to the ground to keep him from being able to slap him. His hand brushed up against Steve’s ribs, and the blond froze immediately, a look of sheer terror.

“Oh no, Bucky, no…” he protested, but a wicked grin was already spreading over Bucky’s face.

“Hmmm… is someone a bit ticklish?” 

Steve’s hands flew up in an attempt to defend himself, and Bucky took the opportunity to attack, digging his fingers into Steve’s ribcage and causing the blond to giggle uncontrollably, trying to squirm away. To keep him from moving, Bucky slung one leg over him and sat on his knees, unrelenting. 

“Buck-” Steve managed to get out, in between laughs. “You’re killin’ me, I hate you, quittt.”

Eventually Bucky did, if only because he was also laughing too hard to continue, and it was only when Steve was able to stop covering his face enough to look Bucky in the eyes that he realized the position they were in. Steve was sprawled out over the blanket, bright red and breathing heavily, with Bucky straddling his thighs. Feeling an embarrassed flush rise to his cheeks, Bucky quickly got off of him, trying to play it off casually, and sat down on the blanket, clearing his throat loudly.

Steve sat up as well, reaching for the chips and then glancing over to the box of ice cream that was still laying in the middle of the blanket.

“Oh my god, you brought ice cream?” he exclaimed. “Dude, I love you.” 

It took them both a moment to process what he’d said, and then Steve, if possible, turned even redder.

“I mean- that is, I didn’t mean…” He stumbled over his words in his haste.

“I get it,” Bucky cut him off, trying to spare the poor guy having to explain a slip of the tongue. He would have felt the same way, had it been him. Love might come someday, but for now it was enough that they were together, and that they didn’t have to hide anything from each other anymore, didn’t have to have any secrets.

Well, almost no secrets, anyway. 

Bucky sighed contentedly, leaning up against Steve, who’d sat up again and was happily eating one of the ice cream bars. 

“Bit cold for ice cream, don’tcha think?” Steve teased, but there was some truth in his words, as Bucky could feel him shiver up against him.

“Here, hold up a second,” he said, scooting back to take off his hoodie. It took him a moment of struggling, but he succeeded eventually and offered it to Steve, who made a show of protesting but accepted quickly enough, pulling the too-big sweatshirt over his head. Smiling, Bucky pulled him in close, confused at the oddly possessive feeling that rose in him, seeing Steve wearing his clothes. It was adorable, though.

“Steve?” Bucky murmured, after a few moments. 

“Mm?” Steve said quietly. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. Instead of responding, Steve tilted his head up and met Bucky’s lips with his own. Bucky closed his eyes and _melted_ , and they stayed there for what could have been hours, pretending there was nothing in the world but each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, credit to Cœur de Pirate for the chapter title and lyrics.
> 
> Translations:  
> Steve, suddenly severe, pointed his fork (with a morsel of food still on it) at Frenchie.  
> “Tu te tais, ou je te tue,” he said loudly.  
> "You shut it, or I'm gonna kill you."
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments / concrit much appreciated!
> 
> Come check me out on [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Next up: probably another 5k words of fluff. Who knows. This fic is getting out of hand.


	6. corbeau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys make out, watch a movie, and eat popcorn- not necessarily in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied- it's 6k words of fluff. Think of it as the calm before the storm, I guess? Plot will start happening next chapter, I promise. 
> 
> Posting early because we're going to the beach tomorrow morning! Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Content warning for hospital mention? Nothing big but a little more detail than before.

_et deux par deux on avale nos mots_  
_c’est dur d’oublier ce que l’on connait et ce qui imprègne nos peaux_

Exactly one week, two days, and sixty-three minutes after Steve and Bucky’s first kiss, Steve got the best news he’d gotten since then.

Gilmore Hodge, possibly the worst roommate ever and the closest thing to an enemy Steve had had since primary school, was sick. Very sick. Can’t-move-from-the-bed, coughing-up-phlegm, can’t-eat-or-drink sort of sick. Normally, Steve would have felt bad for him instead. God knows Steve knew what it was like to be horribly sick and even hospitalized, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.

Still, given that he hadn’t actually wished it on Hodge, and that Hodge was an obnoxious homophobic piece of shit, he didn’t really feel bad about the fact that he was going to take advantage of it. And oh, was he going to take advantage of it.

While his roommate spent the weekend moaning in the infirmary, Steve was going to invite Bucky over, and they were going to hang out, and it was going to be fun and they would _finally_ get a chance to spend some time alone together. Since the picnic that Bucky had been adorable enough to set up last week, they’d seen each other mostly surrounded by other people, in class or at lunch and dinner. The few moments they’d been able to snatch alone had been hasty, Steve constantly busy with homework and Bucky always being grabbed away by some other friend to go hang out. So it would be nice to actually get to be together, just the two of them, for a while. 

It was nighttime already, so Steve was a bit worried about the fact that he’d hardly started his homework, having gotten distracted reading and lost track of time after lunch. Determined that he wasn’t going to let something as stupid as homework get in between him and Bucky having some time together, he asked everyone he could find if they had a flashlight, and then after being told, “No, sorry,” about thirty times, ended up having to use the light from his phone, which was annoying as heck because it shut itself off after only about three minutes of being on, so he had to tap it again and again and again to keep enough light to be consistent. Still, though it was slow and grueling, he managed to finish his homework with only one incident of having to quickly shut off his phone and pretend to be sleeping while the Head of House came in asking about the light. 

Just when he was finishing up, when he had just gotten to the point where his eyes were starting to burn from looking at so much text in such little light – his mom had always said that it was because of reading under the covers that his vision was so bad – his phone went off, and he panicked, quickly trying to muffle the sound with a pillow. Stupid, stupid, he should have shut off the sound before, Steve thought, cursing himself. After waiting several heart-stopping seconds and relaxing when nobody came in to yell at him, he picked up his phone and hurriedly pressed the mute button, before checking to see who had texted him. The screen was painfully bright in the darkness, and Steve had to blink tears out of his eyes before he made out the words on the screen.

 **Bucky** : are you asleep? i cant sleep.

Before he got a chance to reply, the phone buzzed again and another message showed up.

 **Bucky** : wait shit sorry, i probably just woke you up with that message  
**Bucky** : sorry that was so shitty of me

Steve smiled slightly, sitting up to send over a response.

 **Steve** : It’s okay, I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Homework.

Which was mostly true, even if he was now packing up his stuff, grabbing notebooks and shoving them haphazardly into his backpack, frustrated enough that he wasn’t even going to bother putting them in any sort of order. His bed cleared off, Steve collapsed onto it and then made his way under the covers, taking his glasses off and setting them on the night table. Grabbing his phone with one hand, he rubbed his eyes with the other and yawned widely. At least he could lie down now, and he did so, checking his phone to see if there was a new message.

 **Bucky** : hw?? but its the weekend  
**Bucky** : go to sleep dumbass  
**Bucky** : you can do it tomorrow

Tired as he was, Steve told himself he’d send one last text before going to sleep.

 **Steve** : I ammmm. I’m done and now I’m in bed and everything. Only thing keeping me up is you :P  
**Steve** : Besides, I’ve got plans for tomorrow. 

He locked the phone and leaned his head back, smiling as he thought of getting to spend an entire afternoon with Bucky. He still wasn’t entirely sure what they were going to do, per se, but he was sure he’d figure something out. A movie, maybe. Ideas swimming around in his head, Steve was just on the brink of that almost-asleep feeling when his phone buzzed in his hand, jerking him awake.

 **Bucky** : plans? :((((  
**Bucky** : id hoped we could hang out….

Steve grinned, promised himself that this really was the last one, and then typed out a few final texts.

 **Steve** : My plans were hanging out with you, lol.  
**Steve** : Don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you all alone. No need to get all worried :P  
**Steve** : I really do need to go to sleep now, you’re keeping me up past my bedtime. Jerk.

When the phone buzzed again a few seconds later, Steve didn’t even need to turn it on to know what the text said.

 **Bucky** : punk.

* * *

The next morning, Steve didn’t wake up until past eleven, and when he did, panicking slightly at how late it was, he busied himself cleaning up at least his half of the room. Hodge kept his affairs perfectly neat, clothes arranged at right angles in his closet, while Steve’s stuff was more often scattered across the floor than not. It wasn’t that he couldn’t keep things in order, it was that he didn’t see the interest in wasting time being neat when it was so much easier just to toss things out of the way until you needed them later, when it was easier to find them if they were on the floor instead of hidden away in a closet.

Still, while he wasn’t exactly worried about impressing Bucky, he didn’t think it would be great for him to have to step over a pile of Steve’s dirty clothing to get into the room, so he occupied himself blasting Strange Trails from his iPod’s tinny speakers and putting everything away for a good hour. Afterwards, he made his bed, went down to the kitchen to find something microwaveable for lunch, and took a shower. 

Around one-thirty PM, Steve ended up in his room, toweling off his hair and glancing through his newly cleaned closet, trying to figure out what to wear. 

It had never been much of an issue for him, in the past. Usually he just threw on one of the many identical pairs of skinny jeans he owned and found a t-shirt that he could put a hoodie over if necessary, and that was enough. He’d stopped wearing sweater-vests when he’d stopped letting his mom buy his clothes for him, so he normally looked pretty much average. Today, though, he found himself looking through every item of clothing he had before settling on, surprise, a pair of skinny jeans and a dark grey t-shirt with weird geometric patterns. He still wasn’t satisfied, but he doubted he’d find anything better in the next few minutes, and Steve wasn’t willing to spend any longer on this.

Once done, he looked in the mirror to part his still-damp hair carefully, and then glanced around his room. Everything _seemed_ in order: his bed was neat, there was nothing but his backpack lying on the floor, the calendar on his wall was in fact turned to the correct month. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Steve left his room to find Bucky’s, the wood floor creaking under his bare feet. 

When he entered the room, he found that it was almost exactly the same as the last time he’d been there – that is to say, when he’d found Bucky drunk out of his mind – with the exception of Bucky himself, who was sprawled out on his bed with his laptop out, looking bored. Steve cleared his throat loudly to get his attention, and smiled at the way Bucky’s face lit up when he saw the other boy.

“Steve! I was hopin’ you’d show up, but I was too lazy to get up ‘n get you yourself. Also, afraid of your roommate. That guy’s scary as hell.” 

Steve laughed. “What, so hanging out with me wasn’t worth braving the fearsome Hodge?” He pretended to look disappointed, opening his eyes wide and pouting. “Guess you’re not really my knight in shining armor, then, huh?” 

“What? Aww, Stevie, no, I would’ve…” Bucky said, getting all flustered again, and Steve couldn’t help but laugh, he was just so damn adorable. He didn’t think he’d ever find a better way to spend his time then teasing Bucky, if only just to see the way he got all awkward and began to stutter and blink too quickly every time. 

“’m just teasin’, Buck,” Steve said fondly, making his way over to sit down on the bed with him. Neither of his roommates were there, so he saw no issue with pressing a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head as he leaned over to see what was on the screen. “What’cha doing?” 

“Uh, browsing Halloween costumes,” Bucky said, in an almost embarrassed way, hurrying to explain. “Mostly for Becca, but last year Dum Dum and a few of the guys and I all went out dressed up, just for fun.”

“Yeah?” Steve said, intrigued. He lay down on the bed as well, one arm slung over Bucky’s back, pondering the idea. He hadn’t been trick-or-treating for a really long time- when he was younger he loved it, but his mom was always on his case about it being too cold and too late, even if she did want him to have fun. Besides, being an only child and not having very many friends, it wouldn’t have been all that fun on his own. He’d considered himself too old for the past four years or so, but if Bucky was going anyway… Well, it was something to consider, at least. “Y’know, I haven’t dressed up since I was nine. Haven’t had the time,” he said, by way of explanation.

Bucky’s mouth twisted into a sympathetic expression. “That sucks, ‘m sorry,” he said. “Well hey,” he went on, brightening, “maybe you could come with us this year! I dunno yet about the rest, but I’m gonna go as Jack Sparrow.” 

Steve paused for a moment. “I think you’re missing a Captain in there somewhere,” he teased, and Bucky cut him off before he finished, correcting himself.

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, sorry.”

“You should be ashamed,” Steve said, shaking his head sadly, and Bucky put on an appropriately shameful air. They stayed there for a moment, both slowly shaking their heads, and Bucky was the first one to dissolve into laughter.

“But yeah, I’d love to come with you guys,” Steve said eventually, once he’d caught his breath. “I wouldn’t know what to go as, though.” 

Bucky bit his lip, considering. “Hmmm…” A wicked smile crawled its way onto his face, and he quickly opened a new tab. Rapidly and messily, he typed into the search bar, _costumes for skinny blond twinks_.

“Bucky!” Steve cried out, jostling him away and trying to cover the computer screen at the same time, and only managed to twist himself into an even less comfortable position than before. Laughing, no, cackling, almost, Bucky grabbed his laptop and turned onto his side, holding it up so that both of them got a great view of the images as they opened.

“…oh my _god_ ,” squeaked Bucky, before slamming the laptop shut, laughing uncontrollably. When he turned back around, his face was bright red, and Steve couldn’t help but burst into laughter as well. Spontaneous porn images all over Bucky’s computer screen were not exactly the way he’d expected this all to go, but hey, he wasn’t exactly complaining. That reminded him, though, that he did have a reason to be here other than just chatting. Once they’d gotten out of their fits of laughter, Steve gulped a few deep breaths of air, little laughs still bursting out here and there, and then turned onto his back, stretching his arms up above his head. 

“Okay, I _did_ actually come here for a reason,” he said. Bucky, still recovering, made an inquisitive noise but didn’t actually speak. “So The Fearsome Hodge is actually sick – got the flu or something, ‘m not sure – and he’s spending the weekend in the infirmary. So… I was hoping you could come over for a while?” 

Steve didn’t know why he felt so awkward about this- it wasn’t like Bucky had never been in his room before, and it was just a trip down the hall. Hardly anything special. Still, it felt oddly intimate, inviting him like this, and he was realizing that while he’d spent plenty of time in _Bucky_ ’s room, hanging out after dinner or with everyone else post-curfew, he didn’t think he and Bucky had ever been alone in his room before. For some reason, the very idea was making him blush. Thankfully, he was saved from having to think about it for too long by Bucky responding.

“Sure, Stevie. I’d love to.” After a short pause, he continued. “Didja have anything in mind, or were we just gonna hang out? ‘cause either’s fine, but I can’t say I’m gonna be the most interesting company today. ‘m tired as hell.” 

Steve cracked a smile. “You’re interesting company all the time, Buck.” He meant it, too- he’d rather sit in silence with Bucky than have a conversation with just about anyone else. “Still, I was thinkin’ we could watch a movie? If you bring your laptop. I’ve got DVDs.”

“That sounds great!” Bucky said enthusiastically. “Why can’t we just use yours, though?” He glanced at his own laptop reluctantly, and Steve had to admit he wasn’t exactly hasty to open it up again after what had just happened. Still, that didn’t change the slightly bitter tone in his voice when he answered.

“Haven’t got one, remember?” Sarah and he shared a PC back home, but they hadn’t been able to afford a laptop since Steve’s old second-hand Dell finally died a few months back.

“Oh right, sorry,” Bucky said, seeming genuinely regretful. “I forgot.” He was easy to forgive, and Steve knew it had just been a slip-up, but he still hated being reminded that he and Bucky lived a different kind of life, and that only one of the two of them had to worry about not having things that the rest of the school considered as normal, even necessary. It was easier when he could pretend to be just like the rest.

“It’s fine,” Steve said, smiling and trying to forget about it. “So… you coming with?” he asked, starting to get up. 

“But my bed… so comfortable…” Bucky moaned wistfully.

“Get _up_ , ya big lump,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s arm and trying to yank him off the bed, and the both of them giggling when he managed to move Bucky about an inch, maximum. “C’monnn,” he said, impatient now to get back. 

“All right, all right, I’m coming.” Bucky grumbled as he got up and fixed his shirt, grabbing his laptop in one hand and a bottle of Gatorade in the other and following Steve down the hallway to his room. 

When they got there, there was a moment of awkwardness and standing in the doorway, before Bucky entered and plopped himself and his laptop down on Steve’s bed, dropping the Gatorade on the floor. When Steve was left standing there for another few seconds, Bucky turned around and gestured impatiently for him to join him.

“What, you gonna stand there all day?” 

“’m comin’, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Steve replied wryly, making his way over to the bed. He looked away as Bucky opened his computer and typed in his password, and then pointedly continued to look away until he’d x-ed out of the tab that he’d opened earlier. Leaving the computer open on his desktop, Bucky stood up, looking slightly disgruntled. 

“There isn’t really enough space for two people on the bed,” he said, frowning. “D’you suppose I could…?” 

Instead of finishing the sentence, Bucky moved over to Hodge’s bed and began to drag it towards Steve’s. Choking on a laugh, Steve got up to help him, grabbing the other end and started to pull it towards his own bed. 

“Careful,” Bucky said, sounding slightly strained. “Don’t want you to overexert yourself or whatever.”

“I got it, Bucky,” Steve said shortly, giving the bed and extra-hard pull. Now that Bucky had said that, there was no way he was going to show any weakness, so he stuck it through, helping to bring Hodge’s bed the whole length of the room until it was up against his own. He omitted to mention the fact that his arms were burning, preferring to raise an eyebrow defiantly at Bucky’s worried expression. He couldn’t stand it when people assumed he couldn’t do things, or, worse, tried to do things for him when he’d made it clear that he wasn’t looking for help. He wasn’t above accepting it, when it was actually needed (okay, sure, he did usually feel like he had something to prove, but if he really needed help he’d ask), but unsolicited prying and not letting him do stuff on his own was absolutely not okay, and he needed to be sure Bucky knew that.

“There we go,” Bucky said a moment later, when the two beds were lined up properly, crawling over them to grab some pillows off of the head of Steve’s bed and stuffing them in the crack between the two. 

“Can I-?” he asked, gesturing at the beds, and Steve nodded, not actually knowing what Bucky was going to do but assuming it would be okay with him. All he ended up doing was pulling the blankets off both beds and, with the aid of the rest of the pillow, rearranging everything into something resembling a nest in the middle of the bed, with pillows up against the wall that they could lean on. Steve hovered around, helping where he could, until the two of them were satisfied.

“Look good?” Bucky asked, looking to Steve for approval, and Steve nodded happily. It looked cozy as heck, and there was just one thing left to do.

“Okay, so what movie should we watch?” 

_That_ question, of course, led to the two of them poring over Steve’s rather extensive collection of DVDs. He knew that he really did have a lot of them, and that it was a bit frivolous, really, given that most people just found movies on the internet these days. Still, nice art supplies and DVDs were the two things he’d always splurged on, and he doubted that was going to change anytime soon. There was just something much more satisfying about being able to peruse through a stack of movies than to google one, and besides, these could be shown on a TV in much higher quality than you’d find on anything torrented or streamed.

He also had, he was realizing as they looked through them, an embarrassingly large percentage of his films were Disney movies. He’d always been a fan of the classics, and as a child he spent so much time in the hospital hooked up to machines and filled with tubes that often, watching movies was the only thing he could do. In those starched white beds, antiseptic air invading his breath and low beeping in the background of each scene, he always found himself rewatching Cinderella, and hoping that he could have a fairy godmother, too, who would show up and transform him into someone beautiful, someone healthy. After Pinocchio, he spent hours looking out the window and whispering wishes to the stars, pleading for the Blue Fairy to turn him into a real boy instead of someone cobbled together hastily, with weak joints and faulty lungs. 

Of course, none of that ended up happening, and instead he learned that the only way he was going to get anywhere in life is if he sludged through it his own damn self, that nobody was going to help him and wishes don’t come true and here he was, years later and only slightly less sickly. 

Still, sometimes, on bad nights, the Disney movies helped. 

Bucky was nice enough not to say anything about them, running his finger down the pile and then back up again as he frowned, considering. “I haven’t seen this one, or this one, or this one,” he said, pointing, “but then again this one is always good… oh, and I haven’t seen these either,” he finished, jabbing a finger at the Lord of the Rings trilogy extended edition.

“ _What_? You haven’t seen _Lord of the Rings_? Dude, that’s only like, the seminal fantasy trilogy of our era.”

Bucky shrugged, unperturbed. “You know, not everyone’s as big of a nerd as you. _Some_ of us have a life.” 

“Yeah, and _some_ of us think it’s important to have seen the _start of high fantasy itself_.” This was ridiculous. Steve could not believe that he was actually speaking to someone who hadn’t watched Lord of the Rings. Seriously, he was tempted to ask Bucky if he was just lying, because how could you have lived for sixteen years without having seen it? Even if you hadn’t read the books, the _movies_ … “Okay, that’s it. We’re watching these, no questions asked.”

Thankfully, Bucky didn’t protest, because if he had then Steve would have had to insist, and things could have gone poorly from there (especially since Bucky now knew exactly how ticklish Steve was). So the two of them settled down, Bucky gently putting the DVD into his computer and then clicking around randomly while it loaded. Steve, on the other hand, busied himself getting comfortable, cozying up to Bucky and pulling the blankets all around him. As the first few notes of the movie’s music pierced the air, Steve quickly jabbed the mouse button, pausing it.

“Oh no! Wait! Lemme just close the curtains first, so we can see better.” He jumped up and Bucky whined at the sudden loss of contact.

“You were warmmm,” he complained, but Steve was quick, closing the curtains and turning off the light before getting back into bed. He snuggled up next to Bucky, leaning his head up against his chest, and then hit play again. Bucky shifted a few times, making himself comfortable, and ended up with his arms wrapped around Steve and his chin resting on top of the blond’s head. The movie began, and was interrupted almost immediately by Bucky’s commentary.

“Hold up, is she basically just tellin’ us the plot here? Like, is this a prologue of some sort, or is the whole thing just some chick narrating?”

“Shhh,” Steve said quietly. “Everything’ll be explained.” 

The peace only lasted another few minutes before the brunet decided to open his mouth again. “Oooh! I know who that one is! With the pointy hat. ‘s Gandalf, right? The wizard, or whatever.” A quiet, “Mhm,” from Steve sufficed this time, but only for a moment. “The hell’s that supposed to mean, a wizard arrives when he means to? Sounds to me like he’s just dodgin’ being late.” 

It was getting annoying enough that Steve actually sat up, turning to face Bucky head-on. “Buck, shut up and just watch the movie.” 

“Yeah? Make me,” the older boy said, a defiant smirk on his face. Steve stared at him for a second, squinting slightly as he considered his options, and then dove in to kiss him roughly, open-mouthed and messy. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough for Bucky to look distinctly ruffled when Steve leaned back again. 

“Okay,” he said, subdued. “I’m done. No more words. Talking’s finished.” 

“It’d better be,” Steve said, settling back down into his previous position, “or I’ll have to find something better for you to do with your mouth.” 

Grinning at the muffled squeak of surprise that Bucky made at that particular comment, he rewound the movie a few seconds to make up for the time they’d just missed talking and refocused his attention on the wizard and the hobbit on the screen.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, Steve found himself yawning, his body starting to cramp up from being in the same position for so long. He reached out to pause the movie, and was immediately met with protests from Bucky.

“Hey! Oh come on, they _just_ got to Rivendell!” Steve couldn’t help the smile that his lips curled up into. 

“I thought it was a nerd movie?” he teased.

“It is!” Bucky insisted. “But I’m a huge nerd and I need to know what happens, Steve, pleeease!” he whined. Steve smiled.

“Cool it, Buck, I was just gonna suggest that we make some popcorn or somethin’. ‘m gettin’ hungry.” Reluctant as he’d been a moment ago, Bucky seemed to warm to the idea the instant food was mentioned. Nodding enthusiastically, he closed the computer and stood up, kicking off all the blankets into a pile and getting up, yawning and stretching. He reached up, arching his back with an audible crack, and Steve found himself looking to the strip of skin that appeared when his shirt lifted up. He licked his lips quickly, nervously, and turned his gaze away.

“Right,” said Bucky, seemingly not having noticed anything. He held out a hand. “Shall we?” Laughing, Steve took his hand and stood up, and they walked out the door together, holding hands. Until they got to the hallway, where they let go and fell into an easy, friendly posture. Steve’s hand felt cold where it had been in Bucky’s a moment ago, and he opened and closed it a few times as they made their way down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. 

“Okay, so, popcorn!” Steve said brightly, opening a cabinet at random and beginning to rifle through it. He knew there was popcorn in here somewhere, Monty had told him specifically that while food kept in the fridge was easy game for any boys with the munchies, there were always cereals and crackers and popcorn in the cabinets.

“’s in here, Stevie,” Bucky said, and Steve turned around to see him pointing at a cabinet in the exact opposite direction of where he’d been searching.

“Right! I knew that,” Steve said briskly, making his way over to the other cabinet and getting out a packet of popcorn – “Cheese-flavored popcorn? Ew. Who would eat that?” – and then exchanging it for a normal one, which he stuck into the microwave. After setting the time and pressing start, he leaned up against the wall next to Bucky, waiting to hear the popping from the bag.

While he waited, he trailed gentle fingers down Bucky’s arm, eventually clasping their hands together. Bucky looked down, their eyes meeting, and Steve leaned in. His eyes fluttered shut as he got closer, but before their lips could meet there was a loud bang.

Steve jumped back and away from Bucky, panic coursing through him, and turned around quickly, towards the source of the noise. It happened to be the sound of the door slamming against the wall as it was kicked open by a certain Allan Bottiroli, resident of the room directly above Steve’s and wont to make way too much noise at way too late of an hour.

“’sup, fuckers?” he said as he entered, significantly louder than Steve would have appreciated.

Steve smiled weakly and replied, “Not much, Allan, how about you-“, but was interrupted before he could finish his sentence by Bucky, who walked over and clapped a hand onto the other boy’s shoulder.

“Al, man, how’s it goin’?” He, too, was almost yelling, but apart from that he seemed completely normal. The only hint that he was anything but comfortable was a slight tinge of red dusting his cheeks, but that could also be chalked up to the heat of the stuffy kitchen.

“’sgood, bro, things’re good,” Allan replied. The two of them went on to have an incredibly generic conversation, talking but not really saying anything, for as long as it took for Allan to rifle through the fridge and somehow manage to find a soda that had been hidden behind three empty boxes of pizza and a jar of pickles. He left the same way he came in, with a loud slam of the door. Immediately, Steve could see Bucky’s shoulders relax, the tension draining out of his posture as Allan’s footsteps faded away. 

“That was close, holy shit,” Bucky said, sounding genuinely relieved. Steve winced- it was all his fault, what had nearly happened, after all. 

“Buck, ‘m sorry.” he said, but Bucky brushed off the apology with a wave of his hand, trying to look nonchalant. 

“’s fine, don’t worry.” 

Steve knew better than that, though, could tell just from the way he held himself that he at least was still worrying. “No, really, I shouldn’t’ve… I should’ve been more careful. I know it’s important to you, that they don’t know, and I respect that, honest. I’ve gotta make sure not to do stuff like that in public anymore.” 

Bucky nodded and smiled, but it seemed forced, and while he turned to occupy himself with the popcorn, Steve frowned at the back of his head. What had he done? He’d only been trying to comply with what Bucky had asked of him, after all. All that he wanted was for Bucky to be happy and with him, no matter what accommodations he had to make to keep it possible. Having to sneak around a little bit, to only be able to act truly like themselves in private, that wasn’t much to give up, was it? Not when you thought about what he got in return, which was, well, Bucky. That made it easy, to think of it that way. He’d do nearly anything for Bucky.

“C’mon, let’s head back upstairs,” Bucky said, holding the hot bag of popcorn at arm’s length to keep the steam rising from it out of his face. 

“’kay,” Steve said, grabbing a few kernels on his way, and then running up the stairs so he could get there before Bucky, who was left laughing helplessly at the bottom of the staircase, struggling not to spill anything from the heaping bag of popcorn and not burn himself at the same time.

By the time Bucky got up there, Steve was already under the blankets, covered from toe to chin.

“Y’know, this popcorn is all for me now,” Bucky said, and then giggled at the look of shock on Steve’s face. “Yup. You made me carry it up here alone, so you forfeit any right to eat it.”

“Objection!” Steve cried out. “It was my idea in the first place!” 

“Don’t care,” Bucky laughed. “’s mine now and you can’t do anything about it!” 

Feeling contrary, Steve stood up and darted over to where Bucky was still standing, attempting to snatch a piece of popcorn for himself but ending up blocked by a quick movement of Bucky’s arm. “Nuh-uh,” the brunet teased. “Here, if you want some, you can earn it,” he said, grabbing a kernel and holding it up. “Catch!” He tossed the kernel into the air, and Steve took a few steps to the left, opening his mouth and tilting his head back. To his surprise, he actually managed to catch the it in his mouth after another try, and he held both fists up in victory, grinning as he looked back at Bucky, one eyebrow raised in defiance.

“Okay, okay, you win,” the older boy grumbled, handing over the bag of popcorn to Steve and making his way over to the blanket nest on the beds, where he pulled the covers up over himself and rearranged the pillows a bit. Steve joined him again in a second, trying to reclaim his position from before but finding it less comfortable. Instead, he sat up next to Bucky, resting his head on the brunet’s shoulder, their legs tangled together casually. 

“Buck?” Steve said, looking up at the other boy, not yet having pressed play on the movie.

“Yeah?” Bucky said, turning his head and meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve tilted his head and kissed Bucky softly, then pulled back. 

“I really am sorry about earlier, y’know. That could have been really bad.” 

“It’s all right,” Bucky said, his front teeth worrying his lower lip. “I know you didn’t mean to.” 

“Mmm,” Steve said quietly, still looking into Bucky’s piercing grey eyes, whose gaze seemed softer than usual, less harsh.

This time, it was Bucky who kissed Steve, but Steve responded enthusiastically, pressing his lips to Bucky’s. Their kisses quickly grew more heated as Bucky chased Steve’s mouth every time he backed away slightly. After a few minutes, Steve gave in, deepening the kiss and then taking Bucky’s lower lip between his own. Careful not to be too rough, he bit Bucky’s lip gently, and at that Bucky exhaled loudly, a breathy moan torn from his throat. Steve broke away, giving Bucky a wicked smile. 

“C’mon, it’s movie time,” he said. “Don’t you want to see what happened to Gandalf?” From the way Bucky was looking at him, he couldn’t care less, but Steve was determined that they would have this movie date and see it through to the end by actually watching the movie, as stereotypical as making out in the dark while a movie plays might have been. 

The next half hour or so passed without incident, Bucky looking enraptured during the scene with Aragorn and Arwen, and later fervently expressing his displeasure at the fact that Legolas and Gimli wouldn’t stop arguing, because _Just imagine them as friends, Stevie! One all tall and graceful and the other all angry and axe-wielding, it’d be great!_ Steve was careful to keep from spoiling anything, just smiling at Bucky’s various reflections, and at the way he could pitch in to recite only one line, that being Boromir’s ever-famous, “One does not simply walk into Mordor.”

It took him a good while to realize that Bucky had fallen asleep, but once he did he paused the movie again and shut the laptop with a quiet click, not wanting to disturb him. He was sleep-deprived enough already, and it was good that he was managing to get a little rest right now, even if it was at the loss of spending time with Steve. Besides, Steve was feeling pretty sleepy himself, snuggled up with his boyfriend – and yes, it still gave him little happy chills to be able to think of Bucky as his boyfriend. He shifted his position slightly, ending up with his head against Bucky’s chest again. He could feel the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt, feel his heartbeat, slow and steady. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut almost involuntarily as he listened to that comforting rhythm and could swear he felt his own heart beating in tandem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit, blah, blah, Coeur de Pirate, blah blah blah.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading! The stats page says there're nearly 50 of you all subscribed to this silly fic now, which seems like a ridiculous number of people to be reading my self-indulgent fluffy ridiculousness. You're all the best. 
> 
> Up next: some actual plot? Maybe?? If I can manage it.


	7. ensemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Halloween costumes are discussed, there's quite a bit of kissing, and some crying as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's update day!! Despite an incredibly stressful week with lots of crying because of this one French test, I've survived and even managed to get a chapter done as well. 
> 
> Right now I'm doing my best to build up some buffer, because at the end of the school year (late June), I'll be going on vacation for like a month and won't have any time at all to write. I'll try to write enough over the next couple of weeks that there won't be any gaps in updates, but I can't know for sure, so there might be a few weeks without! Sorry! D:
> 
> In other news, I had to take the number of estimated chapters up to 18. ;A; this story has taken over my life.

_et sans gêne tu te défonces, tu ne comprends pas_  
_car nous avions une belle histoire, tu le nieras pas_

Days passed swiftly, one after the other until it was the eve of All Hallow’s Eve itself, and Bucky… still hadn’t finished his costume. He’d been so caught up helping everyone else with theirs, and figuring out what Steve was going to do, and helping Dum Dum with planning, that he’d barely gotten a chance to even think about his own. He’d gotten a wig and costume from Party City online, sure, but it was honestly kind of lame, and he’d been hoping to do something to spruce it up a bit, make it a little more original. Still, given the lateness of the hour and the way that fatigue was pulling on his eyelids, he doubted he’d get anything else done tonight. 

Despite the fact that it was only 8:30, Bucky was tired as hell, having stayed up late with his schoolwork almost every day for the past week. The first quarter was swiftly drawing to a close, which meant that his full report card, along with comments from the teachers, would be sent home to his parents. It was much more significant that the e-mails they’d been sending every two weeks up until then, and given Becca’s relayed demands from his mother for him to work more on his grades, he didn’t think they’d be too pleased with what he was getting. Sure, if you asked Bucky, his grades were fine- most in the low B to high C range, with the exception of Russian, in which he had an A-, and Math, in which he had a D. His mother, however, was not so lax, and he didn’t want to have to deal with how upset she would be, and all of the phone calls (ranging from furious to sad to, “I’m just disappointed, James,”) that he’d have to sit through. 

His father, he thought bitterly, couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. He was no doubt far too busy with work and staying out late drinking with his buddies to worry about his only son’s education. Besides, he’d never wanted children in the first place. It was his mother who’d decided they were going to adopt, and then who chose to get two kids instead of one, because she’d loved Rebecca and because Bucky had made it very clear from the day they’d entered that orphanage that if he and Becca were going anywhere, it was going to be together. 

So while he might not have actually been the kid his mother wanted, and certainly wasn’t his father’s first choice, Bucky did sometimes try not to always be a spectacular fuckup. And if that meant he had to get good grades, well, he wouldn’t necessarily always do well, but he’d definitely work his ass off last-minute if he had to, and that’s exactly what he was doing. Turning in his homework, studying for his tests, hell, even extra credit- whatever it took to get the numbers up from the 70s to the 80s. 

But tonight, he wasn’t going to do shit, given his mood and the necessary prep for tomorrow evening. It was a Thursday, which was great, because it meant that Halloween fell on Friday and they didn’t have to worry about being up early Saturday morning. So they could sit through the school’s costume contest, bob for apples and sing Halloween songs obediently like the rest of the class, and then sneak out and get the hell out of there first to go trick-or-treating and then to get wasted in town. It was the perfect plan, in Bucky’s opinion, and he couldn’t wait.

Right now, though, all he wanted to do was sleep.

Sighing, he grabbed his phone, unlocking it with a swipe of his finger and typing in his password (2001- Becca’s birth year. A bit obvious, perhaps, but it’s hardly like he had anything top secret on there that he needed to hide.) He hit the messages icon and quickly tapped out a text to Steve. 

**Bucky:** hey hows it going?

He leaned back against the bed, sitting on a pillow placed on the floor, and put the phone down, staring absently at the ceiling. It was just him and Johnny in the room right now, and Johnny was too busy watching something on his computer to be at all interesting. While he knew he should have been doing something productive, he found himself just waiting around until his phone buzzed.

 **Steve:** You know, I literally live *down the hall*, Buck.  
**Steve:** You could just come talk to me, I don’t bite.

And then, after Bucky had already started typing a reply.

 **Steve:** Unless you’re into that ;)

Choking on a laugh, Bucky ignored that last text and sent one of his own.

 **Bucky:** have i mentioned yet that im afraid of your roommate because that guy is terrifying  
**Bucky:** im pretty sure he’d disembowel me if i displeased him. hes always glaring at me every time i come see you  
**Steve:** Yeah he’s said some pretty awful stuff in the past. Still, it could be worse. He *could* be the kind of guy that steals all the blankets.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile. He had to admit, he was guilty of that particular offense, and Steve was well aware of it. The snatches of sleep he did get were more often than not during the day, curled up against Steve and letting the blond’s soft breathing carry him off into dreams.

 **Bucky** : what, from all the way across the room? thatd be a bit weird dont you think?  
**Bucky** : that is im assuming you two dont share a bed lol. thatd be even weirder

The three dots indicating that Steve was typing showed for a long minute, and then disappeared, replaced by a short text.

 **Steve** : Haha, no.

After another few seconds, realizing that there wasn’t going to be another response from Steve, Bucky sent another message.

 **Bucky** : how bout we meet outside on the roof then? you remember, where we first kissed  
**Steve** : How could I forget? :) Be there in a minute. 

Grinning, Bucky got up and stretched, then headed out the door and down the hall. He nearly ran into Steve, who was just leaving his room, head turned the other direction, and they both burst into laughter. 

“C’mon,” Bucky said, “we gotta go down first-”

“Yeah, I remember,” Steve cut him off cheerfully. The architecture of the building was so convoluted that they had to go down the grand staircase all the way to the first floor before they could walk the length of the hallway and then again up a different flight of stairs to get to the doorway that led to that little landing. Bucky could feel Steve next to him as they walked, their hands brushing against one another but never actually touching, and he almost burned from the urge to just grab Steve’s hand and lace their fingers together. Still, he managed to survive until they made it up to the roof, and as soon as they got out there he almost immediately gave in to temptation. 

He pulled the door shut behind them and then kissed Steve full on the mouth, and Steve, after being still for one surprised moment, quickly reciprocated. His glasses were cold and dug into Bucky’s skin, but he didn’t mind. Steve’s left hand was placed against Bucky’s side, and his right one reached up to cup his cheek as they kissed heatedly, Bucky’s own fingers tangled in Steve’s once-neat mop of blond hair. The air was chilly, even through Bucky’s thick wool sweater, but Steve’s skin was hot against his own and he ran his fingers up the younger boy’s arm and left his hand on his shoulder. After a few minutes, Bucky pulled back reluctantly, unwilling to keep going as much as he might have wanted to. If they kept this up, he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to trust himself to stop, and this was hardly the time or the place he wanted anything more to happen. Besides, they had stuff to discuss.

“Okay,” Bucky said, stepping back and making a swiping motion over his mouth with the back of his hand, pulling himself together. “So, your costume’s all ready, right?” 

Steve laughed incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” he said, and then went on in response to Bucky’s inquisitive look. “You kiss me like _that_ , and then you just ask me about my Halloween costume, all casual? You can’t be serious.” 

Bucky grinned sheepishly. However embarrassing it might have been, he was _really_ excited about Halloween. Last year had been lots of fun, all of them together, dressed up all day- from the innocent school activities they spent the morning waiting through to getting far too drunk and making out with god-knows-who in a witch costume at a party later that night. While tomorrow was unlikely to be quite the same, he was still going to do his best to enjoy himself, and that meant having at least a decent costume.

“Oh my god, you’re serious,” Steve said, but he was smiling anyway, so Bucky knew he couldn’t have been too scandalized. “Well, it’s ready, I guess. I mean, did I hafta do anything with it? It’s just a pirate costume…”

“ _Just_ a pirate costume?” Bucky exclaimed. “Stevie, you’re Captain Hook! You’re the most important pirate of the lot!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Steve said, but he looked pleased. “But yeah, I’ve got the costume.”

“And the wig?” 

Steve sighed indulgently. “And the wig,” he repeated, in an almost sing-song voice. “You happy now?” 

Bucky grinned. “Sure as hell am,” he responded. “And the rest of the guys? D’you know about theirs?”

“Nah, Buck, I haven’t spoken to much ‘a anyone all day, been busy with school. But I imagine they’re all just as fine as they were when you asked yesterday, or Monday.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, thinking slightly. Had he asked everyone? Was he absolutely sure? He tried running through the list in his head. Jim had bought a cheap skull mask and was going as One-Eyed Willy from the Goonies, so he was good. Frenchie and Gabe had taken the historical route, dressing up as François l’Olonnais (a French pirate who was, according to Gabe’s translation, “very famous in French pirate enthusiast circles which, as far as I’m aware, are not actually a thing that exist,”) and the slightly better-known Blackbeard, respectively, and they’d gone all-out with it, period-accurate costumes and everything. Then there was Monty who, in a show of spectacularly not giving a fuck, had grabbed a black mask and bandanna and said he was the Dread Pirate Roberts (“From The Princess Bride, oh my god, do you live under a rock?”). And he couldn’t forget Dum Dum’s lovingly crafted Long John Silver outfit, which Verity had helped a lot with, given that the boy was as like to tear any piece of clothing he was given than he was to manage to wear it correctly. He had a cane and everything, and had showed Bucky how he bent his knee to tuck his leg up under his long coat so he almost did look like it was missing.

He was just finishing up his mental tally when he jerked back, hearing a clicking sound and then suddenly noticing Steve snapping his fingers right in front of his face. 

“Bucky? Hellooo, Earth to James,” Steve was saying. 

“Huh?” He said, blinking. “Sorry, did you say something?” Steve gave him a half-smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I said you look completely zoned out. Buck, you need to cool it. It’s just Halloween. No big deal, yeah?” 

“Right, of course,” Bucky said, somewhat abashed. It really was silly for this whole thing to take so much precedent in his mind, but he supposed it was a welcome distraction to worry about Halloween costumes instead of worrying about homework. He sighed, leaning up against the rough brick wall and looking up at the velvety sky stippled with stars. It looked as if someone had run their thumb over the edge of a paintbrush and sent white paint speckles flying across the empty canvas of the galaxy. Thinking of paint made him think of Steve, of course, and he glanced over at the blond, who was also admiring the sky.

“Stevie?” he asked. “D’you think you could show me some of your paintings or whatever sometime?” 

Steve looked almost shy, his eyes darting to the ground before back up again to meet Bucky’s own. “Uh, I mean, sure, if you like. They’re not really any good, though.” 

“Aw, can it already, punk. I saw that drawing ‘a Peggy, it was fantastic.” Steve was definitely blushing now, the tips of his ears and his cheeks steadily turning red.

“I…” he started, fumbling for words. “Yeah, okay, I’d love to,” he finished quietly, and Bucky smiled. He omitted to mention that he’d seen a bunch of Steve’s art tacked up on the wall, because he would rather Steve himself show it to him, with explanations and opinions included as well. 

“Hey, hey Steve,” he said, a thought coming to him and a cheesy grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah?” the blond asked.

“Is your mom an art thief?” Bucky asked, unable to keep the laughter from his voice, especially seeing the confusion that spread across Steve’s face. “Because – wait for it – you’re a masterpiece,” he finished with a proud swoop of his hand, and Steve groaned loudly, covering his face with his hand.  
.  
“Bucky, that is _the worst_ -” he started, but Bucky interrupted him. 

“No, wait, I’ve got more! Hold up,” he said, racking his brains to try to find something equally terrible. “Um, call the Art Loss Register, ‘cause you just stole my heart,” Bucky tried, but that just left Steve raising an eyebrow cynically and stifling his laughter. 

“Okay, wait, this is a good one,” he tried again. “Are you an antiques collector? Because I have some junk that hasn’t been touched in years.” 

“Bucky!” Steve exclaimed, eyes growing wide in shock as Bucky grinned, unashamed. Steve shook his head, lips pressed together to keep him from laughing.

“As fun as this is,” Steve said, the smile on his face evident in his voice, “I’ve got to go pee. I’ll be back in a minute or two.” 

“’kay,” Bucky said, and Steve opened the door to head back into the house. Bucky sank to the ground, sitting with his back up against the wall. The pebbly ground was uncomfortable, but he felt like he needed to sit down for a bit. Steve made him weak at the knees, and he loved him for it but it was difficult enough to stand straight when the other boy was around, let alone engage in witty banter or anything resembling it. While talking was beginning to feel natural again, familiar, even, that was only if he focused on nothing but the words they were speaking. Actually being around Steve, well, that was nearly too much. The blond’s presence was intoxicating, and something about being near him, even just within several feet, was distracting enough to cause Bucky, who’d always prided himself on being smooth and hard to ruffle, to forget what he was saying and stumble over his sentences. 

It was awful. Bucky rubbed at his eyes absently, thinking about his enormous weakness for this stupid kid. At this point, he’d probably be willing to die for Steve, something he’d only ever felt for two people before: Becca and Dum Dum. And he couldn’t ever remember having feelings this intense for anyone he’d dated- with them, it had just been having fun, and even when he said he loved them, it was usually just the fluttering crush type of love, nothing deep. Nothing like this. Now, he thought, he wouldn’t even be able to bring himself to say the words if he wanted to, because it was too much of a commitment. Too much like a promise that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep.

It hurt him to admit it, but Bucky was afraid. Steve might trust him enough to go out with him, but he sure as hell wasn’t sure what he was doing. Every time they were together, he was shocked to realize just how deeply he felt for the other boy, and just how afraid he was to make himself vulnerable. Because if he made himself vulnerable, than Steve could hurt him, cut him to the core, just like that. And fuck, was he terrified of that happening.

Bucky tried to tell himself that he was being silly, shifting his weight and brushing a few pebbles out from underneath him. It was dumb to fear something that Steve had never given any indication he would do, but…

But.

He couldn’t keep his thoughts off the way Steve had looked at Peggy that fateful morning. He knew it was stupid of him to feel jealous, or whatever this was, but he couldn’t help but note that Steve had never looked at _him_ that way, with that kind of raw adoration. Bucky, he got only half a smile, only half his attention, only half of his love, if he could even go far enough to presume that Steve loved him at all. 

Bucky just didn’t want to end up giving Steve more than Steve wanted to give back to him, that was all. He didn’t want to put himself out there for someone who only wanted to fool around, or didn’t see things in the same light as he did. So he just, he tried to convince himself, had to hold off from doing anything spectacularly stupid until he could figure out exactly how Steve felt about him. That shouldn’t be too hard, right?

He started at hearing the noise of the door slamming open, and turned around to see Steve in the doorway, still standing on the stairs. 

“Buckyyy,” he said playfully, drawing out the y. Leaning on the doorframe, he wiggled his eyebrows and stretched out one arm towards him. Grinning, Bucky approached him, taking his hand. His eyes then widened and he let out a sharp surprised noise as Steve yanked on his hand, pulling him in close. Bucky stumbled slightly, but managed to regain his balance before he nearly crashed into Steve, laughing. He grabbed his other hand and Steve pulled him in for a kiss. Bucky’s eyes closed automatically, and he was just losing himself in the sensations when Steve broke away and almost jumped back from him. He opened his eyes, shocked, and was just in time to see Steve directing a strained smile at a boy making his way up the stairs, who was giving the pair of them a really weird look.

 _Fuck._

Adrenaline coursed through him, and Bucky felt himself panicking retroactively, nervousness and anger buzzing inside him. With no other outlet, he slammed the door shut, closing them off from the house, and then whirled around, taking a few steps and trying to calm himself. 

“Bucky-” Steve said, voice apologetic, but that was enough to set Bucky off.

“What the _fuck_ , Steve? What the fuck was that?” 

“Buck, ’m sorry, I swear,” said Steve, looking a bit taken aback by the violence in Bucky’s tone, but otherwise completely earnest in his apology, his eyes wide and pleading. It was almost tempting to turn around and apologize himself, to get down on his knees and beg Steve’s forgiveness for his anger, but Bucky was far more scared than he was willing to admit. So he did what he’d always done and stamped down the urge to cry, instead fanning the flames of his rage.

“D’you have any-” he started, and then found himself unable to continue, so restarted his sentence. “Are you _that_ selfish that you don’t even realize what this means to me?”

“’m not- Bucky, I didn’t _mean_ to,” Steve said, an edge to his voice as his stance grew slightly defensive.

“Then you’re stupid, or careless, or fuck if I know, but you obviously don’t get it!” Bucky yelled, only fueled by the way Steve gritted his teeth in annoyance every time Bucky insulted him. Fucked up as the rational part of him knew it was, he was glad to see that Steve was suffering, because that meant he was feeling a little of what Bucky felt when he thought of what could happen if… what could happen if… 

“Look, Steve, I know you’re all out ‘n proud so whoop-de-fuckin’-do for you, but not all of us ‘re like that. Not all of us have the- the _privilege_ to parade around with everything out there. Stevie, I’m so-” But he had to stop there, because if he continued, the next word out of his mouth was going to be ‘scared’, and if he admitted to that he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stop himself from crying. Already, the urge was there, and he looked to the sky in an attempt to keep back the tears, swallowing hard and willing his voice not to crack. Thankfully, Steve seemed not to notice, as he wasn’t looking at Bucky and soon started shouting as well.

“Y’know what, Bucky? I am _sorry_ ,” he said, sounding far more sarcastic than apologetic. “No really, I’m sorry. There, you happy? You’ve got me apologizing for wantin’ to kiss my boyfriend. That help? D’you feel better, now that I’ve shown appropriate remorse for the fact that I did something so incredibly stupid as to go out with you?”

“I-” Bucky snapped, trying to cut in, but Steve paid him no mind, steamrollering on before Bucky could get a full word in. 

“I am _trying_. I am trying so hard to… to accommodate you, because I dunno what the hell happened but it’s clearly screwed you up pretty bad, ‘cause you look like you’re about to cry every time you try to talk about it. So it’s obviously pretty damn important to you, and I am doing my very best to do what you want, because I don’t know _what_ I’d do with myself without you. But if you’re gonna get pissed off at me when _I’m_ the one who can’t touch you or kiss you or even talk to you too much anywhere classified as public, when then _fuck_ you, Bucky Barnes. Fuck you.”

Steve stepped back, fuming, and Bucky let him, let him walk over to the edge of the roof and stare off into the darkness. 

Eventually, he approached, his breathing measured. “Are you quite finished?” he asked, tone as even as he could make it, and Steve responded with a curt nod. 

“Good,” Bucky said. “Then you can get your head out of your ass and actually fuckin’ _listen_ to me for once.” Steve turned his head sharply, expression startled. Whatever reaction he was expecting after his little outburst, it certainly wasn’t this, that’s for sure.

“Do you honestly think I _want_ this, Stevie?” he asked gently. “That I _want_ to hafta sneak around like this, constantly afraid, never really able to relax when I’m around you ‘cause I’m terrified of being seen?” Bucky took a deep breath before continuing. He’d never talked about these particular fears to anyone, not to his parents and certainly not to his friends. Not even Becca.

“I’m just as upset about the way things have to be as you are, Steve, but that’s just how they are.”

Once it was clear Bucky had finished, Steve burst into rapid speech, sounding frustrated. “Why don’t you change them, then? ‘s not as if there’s some force out there stoppin’ you from comin’ out. Just tell ‘em. Who cares what the assholes think? Your friends’re good people, they’ll understand. Look at Jacques and Gabe, they’ve been plenty accepting-”

“That’s what I thought last time,” Bucky said quietly, cutting Steve off mid-sentence.

“What?”

“That’s what I thought last time,” he repeated, louder. “My friends’ll accept me, and who the fuck cares what the others think? Only turns out that my friend didn’t accept jack shit, and _I_ care what the others think, at least enough that I-”

Bucky’s voice cracked, and he realized that over the course of his explanation his breathing had grown strained, heavy. He pressed his lips together and swallowed, trying to keep the tears from coming. 

“That you what, Bucky?” Steve prompted gently, but Bucky just shook his head, looking down. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said quietly. But talk about it or no, he couldn’t help but remember, and his heart ached when he thought about the panicked yells of his sister, the worry and fear on the faces of his parents, the terror he’d felt when he woke up in the hospital, the guilt that had followed him around for months after, even after he’d transferred schools and made a new group of friends here, where he was much more careful about what he revealed. 

“Buck, you don’t hafta tell me about it if you don’t wanna, but I’m not gonna judge you or anything, if that’s the problem.”

Bucky just shook his head silently, his eyes still cast downwards. It was stupid for him to be like this, he knew, and he had no doubt that Steve would also just tell him that he was being stupid – after all, nobody was severely injured, and he’d recovered quickly enough – but he couldn’t stand the possibility that Steve wouldn’t understand, couldn’t bear the thought of what the look on his face would be. Hatred, or disgust, at least. 

“All right, that’s okay,” Steve was saying, and Bucky felt the warm pressure of Steve’s arm over his shoulders, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. His face crumpled and he gave in, turning his head in to Steve’s shoulder and cried like he hadn’t for years. Dully, he felt Steve guide him until they were sitting down, his face still buried in the blond’s sweatshirt, which was growing damp with tears. 

Eventually, when he came back to reality, having cried himself out, Bucky wiped his eyes and nose on the back of his hand, trying to pull himself together. 

“’m sorry, Stevie,” he said, already feeling bad for foisting his problems onto the blond, who no doubt wanted nothing to do with all of the bullshit that was Bucky’s past. 

“Nothin’ to apologize for, Buck,” Steve replied matter-of-factly. “I’m here for you, any time, any reason.”

Gently, the blond stroked Bucky’s jawline and tilted his head up, pulling him in for a kiss. It was careful and slow, and Bucky closed his eyes to lean into it, letting himself forget all of his stupid anger and fear and just soak in Steve. 

When he pulled back, eyes still closed and lips parted slightly, he had to admit that he felt better. Or at least, he didn’t think he was going to start crying again, which was good, because he’d already taken up enough of Steve’s time with his whining and tears.

“Right,” Bucky said weakly, getting to his feet and stumbling slightly, sniffing and wiping at his dry eyes once more. “We should probably head back… Don’t wanna be late for curfew.”

There was a long silence. “Yeah, okay,” Steve said eventually, standing up as well and making his way to the door. He looked disappointed, almost, and boy did that make Bucky feel guilty, that he’d managed to disappoint the one person he cared most about impressing. He joined Steve at the door.

“Lemme just kiss you one more time, while I can,” the blond said, and the bitterness that resonated in his voice made Bucky ache. It wasn’t directed at him anymore, not really, but at the situation in general, which didn’t much help, because it was his fault things were like this. After one last kiss, he rocked back on his heels, biting his lip as he wavered on the edge of a decision. Just as he saw Steve’s hand brushing against the doorknob, poised to turn it, he broke the silence.

“Wait, Steve,” he blurted out. Immediately, he regretted it, but now that he’d started, there was no going back. His heart racing, Bucky took a deep breath before continuing. “D’you think that… I mean,” he stuttered, and then decided that it would be easier for him to just come out with it. It was Steve, after all. This wasn’t the part he had to worry about, if he did end up going through with this. “If… if you really think it’d be okay with the others, that they won’t freak out on my or anything, we could maybe consider coming out? Sometime soon?”

Bucky winced at the way the words turned to a question in his mouth. He sounded far more nervous than he would have liked. To his relief, Steve broke out into a wide grin.

“Yeah, Buck, that’d be fantastic!” he said. “How ‘bout tomorrow, even? I know it’s soon, but given that it’s Halloween an’ all, it feels appropriate.” 

“Tomorrow?” That was a lot sooner than Bucky had expected, or felt prepared for. But when he thought about it, it was probably better sooner than later, as this way he couldn’t psych himself out to the point of freaking out the way he always ended up doing. Ignoring his fear, he smiled to the best of his ability.

“Yeah, that sounds good to me,” he managed to get out shakily, and despite the apprehension making his legs feel weak, it was worth it for the smile that lit up Steve’s face at his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coeur de Pirate, lyrics, etc, you all know the spiel by now. 
> 
> I appreciate each and every one of you who reads this mess of a fic. Please leave comments if you like it, hate it, or have anything to say at all! 
> 
> Come cry with me on [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Up next: Bad Things happen, Steve is an idiot.


	8. fondu au noir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve paints pumpkins, gets possessive, and provokes people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, bad news- I dropped my computer and it's totally broken now. So... I'm doing my best on the school computers, but they're not always available (and only have French keyboards, which is annoying as hell because it's all rearranged). Hopefully I'll still manage to have one update a week, but I can't promise I'll have enough buffer once vacation comes around, so a short hiatus might be in order. Sorry!
> 
> The character who shows up in this chapter, Lori, had a much larger role in this story in the original plan, and she's meant to be an incarnation of Private Lorraine (the Natalie Dormer character who makes out with Steve in CATFA), so that's who to keep in mind, appearance-wise.
> 
> Also, wow, guys, 1500 hits is like... way more than I ever expected for this thing. I love you all for reading this dumb fic <3
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: sexist language / mild sexual harassment, homophobic threats and slurs, and some violence. If you want to avoid this stuff, I'd recommend stopping at this line- "Steve snapped back to reality very quickly, however, when he caught sight of what was going on in between a pair of parked cars." I'll include a summary of what comes after that in the end notes so you don't lose track of the plot.

_dors, le mal est passé, il te rattrapera pas, le souffle coupé, tu n’es plus son appât_  
_ta peine s’est fendue au délire des autres qui oublieront bien vite que tu n’es plus des nôtres_

Steve put the finishing touches on his Halloween costume before leaving the room- and of course by finishing touches he meant shoving the hat onto his head and stuffing his hand into the too-small hook thing that he was supposed to wear all day and had a feeling he’d be taking off in an hour or two, as soon as it started to get annoying. He passed Hodge on the way out, who seemed to have decided that it counted as a costume for him to have thrown on a Batman t-shirt and jeans – or at least, it counted as enough to get him out of having to wear the uniform, which Steve had to admit wasn’t the most comfortable. The shirt was okay, but the tie was taking it a bit far.

He passed the mirror in the hall on his way down to Bucky’s room, and took a second to look himself over thoroughly. His costume consisted of a pair of black pants, a red jacket cinched at the waist with a large belt, a weird white ruffle that went around his neck, and then a long black wig, pirate hat, and of course the hook. He’d traded out his habitual glasses for a pair of contacts, which were irritating his eyes slightly, and he blinked a couple of times in an attempt to fix that, which helped marginally. Steve hated wearing contacts, finding them more of an annoyance than anything, but he did have a pair just in case he ever felt like wearing them, and he’d figured that Captain Hook wasn’t really the glasses-wearing type.

Deciding that it was good enough, Steve finished making his way to Bucky’s room, knocking on the door to be met with a shouted, “Yeah?” from the inside, which he took as an invitation to come in.

As he entered the room, he pointedly avoided looking at Johnny, who was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers as he shuffled through his closet and seemed completely unfazed by Steve’s presence. Happy Sam was already in his costume, which was literally just a pink bunny onesie that looked incredibly fuzzy, and then there was Bucky.

Bucky, who was using his phone as a mirror and adjusting the red bandanna on his head, looking like he’d just walked off of the Pirates of the Caribbean set.

…well, okay, not exactly. It was an amateurish costume when compared to cinema-grade ones, but Steve doubted that anyone else in the school had put as much effort into dressing up as Bucky evidently had (except maybe Dum Dum, who’d been talking about his costume for even longer than Bucky had been talking about his, if that was even possible). But Bucky was wearing an outfit with far too many buckles to have been easy to put on, a loose white shirt with flared sleeves and a purplish brown vest and loose pants. He’d even gone so far as to cover his fingers with various gold and dark rings. On his head was a wig filled with braids and dreadlocks, as well as of course the red bandanna and tricorn hat that were so very Captain Jack Sparrow. While he didn’t have the beard, he’d been letting himself grow something of a moustache over the past few days, and had filled in the rest with what was probably the same eyeliner that he’d smudged around his eyes. And Steve had to admit, Bucky in eyeliner was something he didn’t know he’d wanted but was _definitely_ glad he’d gotten to see.

“Wow, Buck, you look… great,” he said, actually incredibly impressed.

“The name’s Jack Sparrow, mate. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. Savvy?” Bucky said, in a pretty good semblance of the correct accent, before collapsing into laughter. “D’you really think so? The makeup doesn’t look stupid?” 

“Nah, not at all,” Steve said, and, making sure that neither of Bucky’s roommates were paying any attention (not that it much mattered, as they were planning to come out tonight anyway), leaned forward to whisper into Bucky’s ear. “To be totally honest, I think it’s hot as hell. If your roommates weren’t around I don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off ‘a you right now.” 

He leaned back, smirking, and was satisfied to see that while that wasn’t enough to make Bucky turn red, he definitely had managed to fluster him slightly. It was enough to make him bit his lip and glance down at the floor, at least, which was a win in Steve’s books.

“We should go find Monty,” Bucky said, fixing his wig once more. “Wait, selfie first. C’mere.” He grabbed Steve’s sleeve and pulled him up close, and Steve threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulder, smiling at the screen of Bucky’s phone as he tapped the camera button a few times. 

“At least one of those should come out right,” he said, and then he was quickly putting away the phone and dragging Steve towards the door, who waved a small goodbye at Sam and Johnny (who was still mostly naked.)

They found Monty on the floor above, dressed all in black with his hair pulled back in a black bandanna and a mask covering most of his face. Even he admitted that his costume was half-assed, but it served well enough, given that it was actually pretty accurate to the movie, and it was just that the Dread Pirate Roberts was a half-assed pirate. The three of them headed out of the house, having already lost enough time that breakfast wasn’t even taken into consideration, and started heading towards the school building. On the way, they caught up with Dum Dum, Jacques, and Gabe over at Oak, all of whom also had costumes that Steve found himself admiring despite himself. The two francophone boys basically looked like they’d shown up from a different era, and Dum Dum as if he’d just stepped (or rather, hobbled) out of Treasure Island. The six of them stopped off at to get Jim at Holly, who looked appropriately cheesy with his skull mask and hat. The small troupe of pirates arrived at the class building with Dum Dum in the lead and Steve trailing behind, too busy admiring the costumes of everyone else to be much occupied with keeping up.

He had definitely been wrong in supposing that nobody else would actually make an effort for their costumes. While a lot of them were easy or even just regular clothes that were being passed as a costume, he notably saw a few girls in gorgeous, period-accurate ball gowns, a whole group of people in full-body minion costumes (yes, the annoying yellow things), and more vampires than he ever expected to see collected in one place. Apparently he’d really been missing out back in New York, because here in rich kid land, people took Halloween seriously. 

Unfortunately, he did have to go to class eventually, but he was surprised and pleased by the number of compliments he got on a costume that didn’t even deign to be called half-assed. It was not at all assed, given that Steve was just wearing the outfit Bucky had bought for him (and oh, hadn’t that all been an argument where Steve only conceded to let Bucky buy him something when Bucky managed to convince him that it was more for himself than for Steve, and that he’d keep the costume after, so it was really more like loaning it to him, when you think about it.) Still, it was nice for people to be noticing him in a positive way for once, and he’d smiled and said, “Thanks, you too,” more times than he could count before the end of first period. 

In English, he was already sitting down when Peggy came in, and he found himself staring at her in awe when she did. She was in a near-perfect Indiana Jones outfit, hat and everything, and despite (or maybe because of) the fact that her usual makeup wasn’t there, she looked amazing, from the hair carefully pinned up underneath the hat to the coiled whip resting by her hip to her loose, low-hanging shirt and the swell of her chest…

Steve knew he was taken, and therefore really shouldn’t be thinking things like this, but by God, was the girl hot. 

It’s not as if he were actually betraying Bucky in any way, he rationalized, not as if he would ever actually _do_ anything. Even the thought of hurting Bucky in that way made him feel sick. That was absolutely out of the question. But just admiring? While half of Steve told him that it was okay, that it was normal, another part of him felt squeamish and disgusted at his own behavior. He decided it was best to just keep his eyes away for now, and gave Peggy a shy smile as she sat down in her usual seat beside him. She replied with a nod, never breaking the thread of her conversation with the curly-haired blonde girl who sat on her other side, today wearing far too much eye makeup, dark purple lipstick, and a set of fangs.

“So yeah, I know I shoulda _probably_ stayed home after the whole weekend fiasco, but I didn’t wanna miss Halloween, it’s, like, the best day of the year!” she said excitedly.

“Colleen, you’re sick, you need to rest,” Peggy was saying patiently, and Steve realized then that he was being a total creep and listening to their conversation, so he purposefully turned his attention elsewhere, ending up picking at the skin around his fingernails, a bad habit he’d always had and fell into whenever he was feeling particularly nervous for any reason. 

The class period passed quickly, as did his free period after, though that mostly because he was occupied making out with Bucky in an empty supply closet. And yes, Steve was thoroughly aware how cliché that was, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care when Bucky was busy kissing his way down Steve’s neck and drawing his tongue across his collarbone. 

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed, and he was met by an answering quiet moan from Bucky. He had his head tilted back, up against the wall, as he lost himself in the feeling of Bucky’s mouth on his skin and the way his strong hands were pressing up against his sides under the ridiculous coat, gentle but urgent nonetheless. His own arms were wrapped around the older boy’s waist, and he could feel Bucky’s muscles even through the bizarre fabrics of his costume, sinuous and lean but still nearly twice Steve’s size. 

They hadn’t gotten much farther than this sort of thing, and Steve didn’t have any plans to do so in a dark, cramped supply closet in the middle of a school day, so after what could have been an eternity of kissing, he pulled back with a smile that he knew Bucky couldn’t see in the darkness.

“See?” he murmured. “I told you, that eyeliner does things to me.” 

He heard a chuckle from Bucky, and then he leaned in for one more kiss, almost disappointingly chaste, before taking a step back and then realizing that there really wasn’t enough space to step back. 

“As much as I’m enjoying myself – and trust me, I certainly am,” Bucky said, voice low, “I’m gonna start feeling claustrophobic if we stay in here any longer.” 

Steve agreed, and despite the fact that he certainly would have enjoyed just continuing with what they were doing, he for one had a class next period, and he was pretty sure that Bucky had either a Russian or a German class that he needed to be getting to. 

The two of them stumbled out of the closet giggling breathlessly- after, of course, having made sure there was nobody out there who could see them. And what a great metaphor that was, Steve thought wryly, given that they were literally coming out of a closet on the day they were planning to come out of the closet, and yet they still had to check to make sure they weren’t seen.

To be honest, the only thing that he was actually apprehensive about was the relentless teasing they were going to get from their friends about being a couple. Steve didn’t doubt at all that they’d be accepting of Bucky’s sexuality. He already knew that Jacques was pansexual, and Gabe had never explicitly said anything but it was pretty clear that he was into guys. He’d never discussed the subject with any of the rest, but he was out to anyone who asked, and he knew for a fact that Dum Dum didn’t have a problem with it, and had even mentioned going to Pride a few years back with his girlfriend, who was transgender. So while Steve understood that Bucky might be nervous (and even sympathized, since he seemed to have had an awful experience at his old school surrounding it all), he was pretty sure that any worries the brunet might have were completely unfounded. Things were going to work out fine, he knew it.

They’d decided to wait until the night’s party in town to say anything. The day was dedicated to fun and silly Halloween activities, as well as gorging themselves on candy, but in the interest of letting the younger kids trick-or-treat, and since it was a weekend, they were free for the evening to go down to Petersburg – the nearest city to the school, which was just south of Richmond, Virginia – and do just about anything. The middle and primary schoolers would be chaperoned, but someone had decided that the high schoolers could probably take care of themselves.

So, to celebrate being without adult supervision for a whole night, they’d organized a party at some girl’s house (Rachel, he thought her name was), who apparently had a swimming pool, with a lot of alcohol and loud music. Steve found himself more excited than he had any right to be, because even though he didn’t like parties, he had a real friend group here, and he and Bucky were going to finally get to come out about being together, and it was all going to be perfect, he just knew it. There was nothing for them to worry about.

He and Bucky bid each other goodbye and Steve headed off to art class, where he found that Ms. Lenhe had put away the watercolors for now and had a large selection of pumpkins that they were supposed to paint. With a grin, he and a girl named Cindy picked the largest one they could find and over the course of the hour covered it in various depictions of skulls and snarling werewolf faces, with the words “Happy Halloween” in thin, spidery lettering. It was fun to just let go and paint whatever for a while, because as much as Steve loved his more serious art projects, it did get kind of stressful sometimes to focus so much on the final product and less on just enjoying himself. He knew that if he wanted to have _any_ chance of getting into an art school later on, he needed to at the very least have good grades in art class, and a stellar portfolio, which was something he’d hoped to start building this year. So it was really nice to go wild, even if just with a couple of pumpkins. 

When he and Cindy were satisfied, he ended up painting another, smaller pumpkin as well, with a silly cartoon skeleton and vampire dancing, and then helped another guy finish his up by filling in a few sections with black. By the end of the period, while he’d been exceedingly careful not to get anything on the costume, there were spots of paint all over his hands and even a smear of black paint across his cheek, which he laughed about but didn’t bother to clean off when Bucky (and Jim, and Jacques…) pointed it out to him at lunch.

* * *

It was already dark by the time they arrived at Rachel’s house, even though it was barely six PM, and there were already cars parked in the street near Rachel’s house and even on the grass. While the party was mostly meant to be Lehigh kids, the girl obviously had out-of-school friends as well who’d been invited. Bucky and Steve and the group had stopped in a drugstore to grab some beer, and the tired-looking teenager working at the cash register hadn’t even bothered to card them, which had left Dum Dum actually a bit disappointed that he hadn’t been able to use his fake ID. 

The seven of them had then walked around confusedly for a while before managing to find the house they were looking for, if only from the fact that there was music blaring from the backyard, because the address that Monty had on his phone was no help whatsoever, since they couldn’t seem to find any street signs. 

Though that might have been partially due to the fact that they’d already opened up the beer, and everyone except for Steve and Bucky was at least a little bit buzzed. (Bucky had grabbed one at first, but thought better of it after Steve reminded him exactly what sort of state he’d ended up in last time he’d gotten drunk.) 

The party was already well underway, as could be gauged by the drunkenness level of the crowd, but they were all welcomed with open arms, and even the people Steve recognized as having made fun of him before didn’t seem to notice that he was the same person they usually teased ruthlessly, instead complimenting him on his costume or, at the very least, smiling at him while they talked to or flirted with Bucky. And boy, was there a lot of flirting. With the way girls threw themselves at him, Steve supposed it was a good thing Bucky was gay, because otherwise he would have started thinking he should be worrying. He knew that Bucky had to keep up his image of being straight, and therefore, not having a girlfriend, single- but since they were planning to come out that very night anyway, he would have preferred a little less reciprocation and a little more rejection. He figured Bucky was just used to flirting back out of habit, but it still hurt a little bit.

To remind him that yes, he was indeed taken, Steve waited until Bucky got a break from what felt like a lineup of people coming up to talk to him one after another, and then pulled him aside. The loud music and general crowdedness of the area was a good excuse for Steve to lean in close, his lips just millimeters away from Bucky’s ear.

“Actin’ like that, I’m startin’ to think you’re tryna make me jealous, Buck,” he murmured.

“Aw, Stevie, it’s not like that, you know…” 

The end of Bucky’s sentence was lost in a hitch of breath as Steve (glancing around to make sure nobody was paying them any mind) pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s jaw, then a second one right below his earlobe, and then finally drew his tongue across the shell of his ear and bit down gently on the skin of his neck- not enough to leave a mark, but enough to cause Bucky to gasp and close his eyes.

“Careful, there could be someone-” he said urgently, and Steve chuckled against Bucky’s skin, but lifted his head a bit anyway. 

“Nobody’s lookin’,” he said. “Just tryin’ to remind you that there’s not gonna be any running off to fool around with girls. You’re mine.” 

Steve was surprised at how possessive he was getting, but it wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling, and Bucky didn’t seem to mind much either, from the way he looked almost stunned as Steve looked up at him. It made him laugh again, for no reason, really, just because he knew he could make Bucky feel the same way he did about Bucky, and that in and of itself was enough to make him smile.

Half an hour and half a drink later, Bucky had decided he wanted to go join the group of people bouncing up and down in some semblance of dancing – “I love dancin’, Stevie, c’mon, come with me,” – and Steve had adamantly refused, because dancing was just not something he did. Not to mention, he would probably get trampled by all of those people, since they didn’t look particularly coherent and he wasn’t sure his lungs would be able to keep up with the quick beat of the song, anyway.

“You go on,” he said, hardly even reluctant. “I can manage on my own, don’t worry,” Steve said with a smile, nudging Bucky towards the dancers. 

“If you’re sure… don’ wanna leave you all alone,” Bucky said, but Steve shook his head firmly. The last thing he wanted was for Bucky to limit himself, to abstain from something he wanted to do just for _Steve’s_ sake. Still, only moments after the brunet had left, Steve found himself missing his presence. He felt even tinier than usual without Bucky, which was ironic, since the other boy was huge in comparison to him. Oddly enough, though, being around Bucky made him feel bigger than anything else had, more like a real person and less like the broken weakling he was. And now he was alone in a house full of people, unsure of exactly what to do with himself. 

He couldn’t see Bucky anymore, so he wandered outside, figuring he’d check on the pool, see if there was anyone swimming yet. Sure enough, there were a couple of people who’d stripped down to underwear and decided to take a dip. There were people dancing out here, too, even though the music was distant from inside, and people talking, and drinking, and laughing, and basically there were people everywhere, which meant Steve wanted to be anywhere else. 

He didn’t feel like going back inside, though. Instead, he wandered, weaving his way through crowds of people. He felt strangely distant, the noise and the darkness making him almost disassociate from the world.

Steve snapped back to reality very quickly, however, when he caught sight of what was going on in between a pair of parked cars. 

There was a blonde girl standing there, dressed in a leopard-print leotard with cat ears and whiskers drawn on her face, being loomed over by a sneering guy who’d got his hand up against the car and was standing incredibly close to her. She was visibly uncomfortable, fidgeting and glancing away, and Steve could feel anger boiling in him as he started walking in that direction. As he approached, he realized that he recognized the girl. Lori, that was her name, from his math class. They hadn’t spoken much, but he knew that she was sarcastic and witty, her smile as sharp as the wings on her eyeliner. Which just made him even more annoyed that someone was trying to take advantage of her like this guy obviously was. Still walking towards them, somewhat faster now, their conversation came into earshot.

“No, really, I gotta go,” Lori was saying with a very fake-sounding laugh.

“Aw, c’mon babe, stick around for a quickie?” the guy said, adjusting his position so that there would be no way for her to get out without physically ducking under his arm. “You look so sexy in that outfit, mmm.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Hey, why don’t you leave the girl alone?” he said loudly, thanking God that his voice didn’t choose now to crack. 

The guy turned his head, looking incredulous, and when he saw who was talking, he actually laughed. A part of Steve understood that he had a reason to – the guy was huge and muscular as hell, and Steve probably wouldn’t last a minute against him, but ideally it wouldn’t come to that. 

“What’d you just say to me?”

“Obviously the lady doesn’t want to be here,” Steve said easily, trying to sound as non-confrontational as possible. “Why don’t you let her go on her way?” 

To Steve’s surprise, and relief, the guy did so without any issue. He stood up normally, and Lori immediately took a few large steps away from him, her posture still tense. Steve looked to her, trying to verify if she was okay, and while she did look fine, she was also most definitely glaring at him, which was unexpected.

“Um, I’m sorry, I don’t remember _asking_ for some random guy to come stick his nose in my business?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, confused. He wasn’t expecting thanks or anything, but this kind of reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped for at all. Lori scoffed, pulling a phone out of her pocket.

“Typical guys. Can’t help but come save the damsel in distress.” She rolled her eyes, and then turned around to the guy who’d been harassing her. “By the way, you can go fuck yourself,” she said, giving him the finger, and then she looked back at Steve and raised her eyebrows. “Wow, there is way too much testosterone here for me. There’s no way I’m sticking around to see how _this_ ends.”

With that, she turned around and marched away on her high heels, lifting the phone to her ear. Steve could hear her saying, “Oh my god, Rach, some fucking creep from school totally just started bothering me…” as she left.

He had just been staring after her, but he turned back when he heard the low, rumbling voice of the guy behind him.

“Well, if it isn’t little Stevie Rogers.” Steve realized with a jolt that he actually knew the guy. He was one of Hodge’s friends – Brian, maybe? – whom he’d never actually spoken to, but had always given him menacing looks in the hallways. 

“’s too bad she’s a fuckin’ bitch, she ain’t bad to look at,” he commented casually, his gaze still on Lori as she walked away. Steve clenched his teeth and his fists as he looked at the guy.

“Why don’t you shut it?” Unfortunately, his aggression only caused Brian to laugh.

“Oooh, look who’s all high ‘n mighty. Here to rescue the girl, huh? Funny, since I coulda sworn you were one ‘a them fags.” 

Steve gaped at him, too shocked to actually say anything, and Brian seemed to take that as encouragement to go on.

“Always followin’ around that Barnes kid… wonder if he’s a queer, too. Fuckin’ unnatural, the pair ‘a you. Tell me, does he take it like a bitch? Or are you the one who-”

He could barely hear what the guy was saying, at this point, could only hear his own pulse, the blood rushing as rage pumped through him. 

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Steve said, and his voice was shaking from anger, but at this point he didn’t care. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about Bucky like that, you worthless son of a bitch.” 

“Yeah?” Brian taunted, grinning now. “What’cha gonna do about it?” Steve hesitated for a second, and that only made the wolfish grin grow larger. “That’s what I thought. Fuckin’ pussy. I bet he fucks you, like a girl, huh? That’s why you’re so fuckin’ scrawny, it’s ‘cause you-”

Steve swung his fist, catching Brian in the jaw, which sure as hell made him stop talking. It also hurt like a bitch, though, and for the moment that the other boy was distracted, he stretched out his fingers, making sure he hadn’t actually hurt his knuckles. He was fine, for now, but Brian was cracking his knuckles and stepping close to him, and Steve swallowed, preparing himself for the pain he knew was going to come. Sure enough, a meaty fist connected with the side of his face a moment later. Pain shot through him, and he stumbled backwards a few steps, but he lifted his head again despite it.

“I said, fuckin’ _shut it_ ,” he grunted, aiming another punch at Brian’s face, but the other boy blocked it with just one movement, and grabbed Steve’s wrist, grip tight and painful.

“Sure you don’t wanna stop now?” he said. “It ain’t gonna be pretty if I go on. But hey, what do I know, maybe you get off on this. Fuckin’ creamin’ your pants over getting’ beat up, I wouldn’t put it past ya. Does Barnes do that, tie you up and hit you? Ain’t that how you freaks fuck?”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Steve said vehemently, struggling to free his arm and trying to hit with his left arm at the same time. “I could do this all day.” 

“Well, if you insist,” Brian said, chuckling, and he released Steve’s hand. He paused for just one second, and that was enough time for Steve to lash out, kicking in the general direction of the other boy’s crotch and yes, fuck, he’d managed to hit something painful, because Brian’s hands flew to the area and he made a strangled noise.

Steve tried to take advantage of the situation to get another punch in, but Brian recovered more quickly than he’d expected and responded with a knee to Steve’s stomach. He doubled over, breath short, and when he tried to stand back up properly he couldn’t quite catch his breath still. He kept trying, but the breaths came shallow, and Brian was standing over him while he coughed violently. The larger boy directed a second punch to the his face, and it was a splitting pain, this time, in his cheekbone and radiating out all through him. Steve was falling, unbalanced, and he threw back a hand to catch himself, but _ow, fuck_ , his wrist twisted strangely underneath him and he still couldn’t breathe, wheezing and gasping and still trying to stand back up, although at this point he couldn’t remember why he needed to.

Steve’s hands scrabbled at his throat, but it felt tight, choked even though there was nothing choking him, and he knew what was happening, knew that he needed to stop panicking but _that wasn’t exactly possible right now_ , because he couldn’t _fucking breathe_ and he didn’t know where his inhaler was, didn’t even know where he was, just that he felt the burn of his lungs and the world was starting to blur around the edges, dancing with dark spots, and he was barely getting enough air with each inhale, barely getting any at all at this point.

He saw a sneering smile, crooked teeth and anger in dark eyes, and a fist swinging down to hit the left side of his head. The last thing he could remember thinking was, _no, fuck, that’s my good ear_ , before he blacked out, his head lolling to the side and sinking into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to resume what happens at the end: Steve finds Brian, one of Hodge's friends, harassing one of his classmates, Lori. When he goes to tell him to knock it off, he gets insulted and then punched quite a bit, which triggers his asthma, and he passes out. 
> 
> Up next: Dealing with the consequences of this chapter, basically.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com) is mostly me crying about these two, come join me!
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments :)


	9. loin d'ici

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky has a conversation with a bunny, argues with paramedics, and revisits the hospital he'd hoped never to go back to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's certainly been a busy week! I have chapter ten already written, and hopefully I'll manage chapter eleven too, but school ends next Friday and after that I'll be travelling, thus unable to write. I'm sorry! 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: part of it takes place in a hospital, and descriptions of injuries.

_et j’ai laissé mon cœur loin d’ici, valsant dans un coin de ton pays_  
_sans regrets, je ne sais si l’on doit commencer une histoire si l’on doit se quitter_

Bucky was just drunk enough that everything was a tiny bit _too much_ , but in a good way, in the way where his mind felt loose and happy and he didn’t even have to think about it to let his hips sway to the beat of the music. He somehow managed to forget all of his worries (and boy did he have a lot of them- about his grades, about his family, about the fact that he was supposed to tell everyone one of his biggest fucking secrets tonight, just like that), losing himself in the music and the dance and the general noise of people yelling just to be heard. He knew he'd already had a couple of shouting matches masquerading as conversations, but either he hadn't paid much attention or he was more drunk than he thought, because he couldn't remember a word of them, just that they'd all been with very giggly girls and one very, very drunk guy. It would be a lie to say he wasn't enjoying himself, though, despite the company not being particularly stimulating and his costume being far too hot. It was nice to be free, for a while, to disregard everything he was usually burdened with and have fun dancing with friends and strangers.

He didn't really stick with a particular group, preferring to bounce around, entering and leaving the small circles of drunk, dancing teenagers. Some actually had some pretty cool moves, although most were just bouncing up and down or, in the case of the older grades, just swaying and grinding to the rhythm. Bucky did a bit of everything, although avoided most of the sexy stuff, since it felt a little bit traitorous to Steve- and seeing how he'd reacted earlier to just a bit of flirting (not that Bucky hadn’t sort of enjoyed the way the tone in his voice sent shivers down his spine) he doubted he’d much appreciate seeing some girl grinding her ass up against him.

After a long while, flushed and breathing heavily and sweating like a pig in his costume, Jesus, Bucky stopped to the side of what was being used as a dance floor and dug a soda out of a cooler at his feet. It was a Coke, he thought, but the lights were too low for him to be able to tell, and he didn't much care as he cracked it open to take a sip.

It fizzed pleasantly on his tongue, and Bucky smiled freely at those who glanced his way. Now that he was standing still, he found that he was a bit unsteady on his feet, a bit dizzy. He didn't mind, though, just made his way to the corner of the room as if he were fine. He placed himself next to a lamp, just off the edge of a nice carpet- probably stained with soda and beer by now, he thought, and boy was he glad he wouldn't be Rachel when her parents got home next week. Bucky leaned up against the wall, drinking his Coke serenely and watching the people partying.

If he were Steve, he thought, he'd want to draw this. People, in their rawest state. Not putting on airs, for once, not caring about their image, just enjoying themselves. His gaze stopped on a girl with her head thrown back in laughter, the colored lights glinting off her teeth, and he wished he could photograph that somehow, store the image away for later.

Distracted, Bucky barely noticed the approach of a pretty brunette with large, soft eyes. She sidled up next to him, smiling gently and he became aware of her presence slowly, tearing his attention away from the people. He waited a moment, but when she didn't say anything he made the first move, turning towards her.

“Hi,” he said simply, almost shouting so that he'd be heard.

“Hi,” she said in return, her smile narrowing to a smirk. She was dressed like a bunny, in a big fluffy onesie and whiskers drawn onto her face, and in all honesty it was adorable. 

“So, Jack Sparrow,” she started, but Bucky held up a finger to stop her and corrected her.

“ _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.”

“Right, sorry,” she acquiesced. “ _Captain_ Jack... what was I saying, already?” she asked, brow creasing in confusion.

“Dunno,” Bucky said honestly. 

“What?” she asked, loud, and Bucky moved closer so they could talk more naturally, putting them close enough that he could smell her perfume, which was almost cloyingly sweet.

“I said, I dunno,” he repeated, slightly louder. “You'd only gotten to 'so'.”

“Oh, right!” the girl said, her face lighting up in recognition. “Damn you, you distracted me with that whole 'captain' thing.” She put on a high, mocking voice for the word captain, and Bucky laughed, more because it felt like the expected response than because he actually thought it was funny.

“Anyway, as I was saying, _Captain_ , seeing as I don't think I know you, I figure you're either one of Rachel's weird stoner friends, or you go school with her, and I was wondering which. Although, given that you're lucid enough to have a conversation, I'm giving you one point for schoolmate and leaning away from the stoner possibility, honestly.”

This time, when Bucky laughed, it was genuine. 

“Yeah, I'm from Lehigh,” he said with a nod. “Third year there. Well, second an' a half. I came in mid-ninth grade,” he finished by way of explanation, hoping she wouldn't pry.

The girl nodded at him mutely, her eyes wide. There was a moment of strained silence where Bucky tried to find something to say, and then, to his relief, she started talking again.

“So, like, is it super weird to go to boarding school? Only, I'm kinda considering it – not Lehigh, though, I wanna go to England – but I dunno if I'm gonna be okay away from my parents that long? Like... y'know what I mean, right? Is it hard?”

Bucky bit his lip, thinking. He'd gotten that question a lot at the beginning, and he answered it very differently depending on who was doing the asking. This random girl, though, he was likely never to see again, so what would be the point of lying to her?

“Honestly, I don't miss them much,” he confessed, resisting the urge to look anywhere but at her to avoid eye contact.

He took a deep breath before continuing, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants in an attempt to look casual. “I think that's probably more of a personal thing, though. My parents and I... we're not that close. Mostly I miss my little sister.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she said, mouth twisting as she looked at him with too much sympathy in her eyes. “About your parents, I mean, of course, not your sister.”

“S'okay,” Bucky said, taking a sip of his Coke and leaning his head back up against the wall. “Their loss, right? I mean, I'm like the best kid ever, anyone who doesn't get to be close to me is missin' out,” he said bitterly. 

“I know you're joking,” the girl said so softly he almost didn't hear her over the ambient noise, “but you actually seem really great to me. They're lucky to have you.”

Bucky chuckled, but it sounded hollow, forced. He considered saying something about her not knowing the slightest thing about him, but figured that might be counterproductive, since she was obviously trying to get to know him. “Thanks, uh- I don't know your name, actually,” he realized mid-sentence.

She straightened up, eyes wide with apparent shock (although Bucky was beginning to suspect that wide eyes were just how she expressed any emotion) and brought a hand up to brush some hair out of her face.

“Oh my god, that is so rude of me, I'm sorry.”

“S'fine,” Bucky said with a smile.

“I'm Connie,” she said, smiling and holding out a hand to shake. Bucky took it bemusedly. He hadn't really ever shaken hands with another teenager before.

“I'm Jamie,” he said. As soon as the name left his mouth, he wondered why he'd said it – he hadn't gone by Jamie since primary school – but it was too late for him to say anything now without making things weird, so he left it as-is.

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you,” Connie said with a sense of finality, her smile growing wider.

“So, Jamie,” she said, with the air of someone only just about to actually get to the point, “you got a girlfriend I should know about?”

“No, actually,” Bucky started, then paused.

For an agonizing moment, he teetered on the edge of saying it. It had been forever since he'd been able to say this, and Connie seemed nice enough, and besides, if everything went according to plan, he was coming out to everyone tonight anyway, so he may as well get some practice.

“...actually, I got a boyfriend.”

He felt hot, hot and prickly all over, and he glanced down at Connie nervously, waiting for a reaction.

She looked... disappointed, but nothing else. “Aw, that's too bad,” she said, looking up at him sadly. “He's a lucky guy, though.”

Bucky sighed in relief, his body relaxing against the wall as he let out all the tension he hadn't realized was in him. “Yeah, I s'pose he is,” he said, smiling slightly as he looked out into the crowd. He spotted Gabe amongst the sea of people, and waved at him.

“That's my friend Gabe,” he said to Connie, who nodded thoughtfully and then joined him in waving to try to get his attention. 

“Hey, Gabe!” he shouted eventually, and that worked, attracted the other boy's attention. Bucky smiled widely when they made eye contact, but to his surprise Gabe looked more distressed than anything. He was frowning and walked over towards Bucky and Connie quickly, not even bothering to apologize to the people he bumped into, which was odd, because he was usually incredibly polite. It took him just long enough to get there for Bucky to start worrying, his heartbeat already faster as he chewed at his bottom lip.

“Bucky!” Gabe yelled as soon as he was in shouting distance, and he sounded out of breath for some reason, and _fuck_ something bad had happened, hadn't it?

“Gabe, what's up, what's happened?” he asked, trying to keep calm. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe things were all fine and Gabe just wanted to hang out or something. 

“It's Steve,” Gabe said, and just like that, Bucky felt his stomach drop, because _oh fuck no that was the last thing he wanted to hear_. “He... we dunno what happened exactly but the ambulance's just got here and he's unconscious.” The words sounded strained, but it might have just been because Bucky's heart was pounding.

“Where is he?” he managed to get out.

“Back outside,” Gabe replied, jabbing a thumb in that direction, and Bucky didn't even bother listening for the rest of Gabe's sentence.

“Connie, m'sorry, but I gotta-” he started, and Connie shook her head wildly, looking shocked.

“No, oh my god, go!” 

“Right,” Bucky muttered in an exhale, and then he was already hurrying, pushing his way by people and conversations and not giving a single fuck. Once he got outside, it was pretty easy to figure out what was happening, because there was a horde of people around an ambulance, being kept from crowding in further by a woman in a highlighter-green vest. Another guy in a vest was talking to a crying blonde, and then two more were bent over a distinctively small body.

They lifted him up, and Bucky got a glimpse of Steve's face, unnaturally pale and half-covered by an oxygen mask and a machine of some sort clipped onto the tip of a finger, blood smudged on his upper cheek and eye, and that's when the panic hit. He shoved through the crowd as rapidly as he could, needing to know what had happened, needing to know if Steve was okay, needing so many things all at once and not getting any of them and it was making his breath come fast now, adrenaline buzzing through him. 

“I'm sorry, you can't come past here,” he heard, and it took far too long for him to realize that the paramedic was talking to him. 

“You gotta let me through, you gotta-”

Bucky was on his tiptoes, trying to see, and he caught a glimpse of Steve, now on a stretcher, being lifted into the ambulance, a blanket covering most of his body.

“I'm sorry, but-”

“Please, he's my b-” Bucky cut himself off. “He's my best friend, I gotta know, I,”

“I'm sorry, we can't let anyone further than this,” the woman said firmly, but she looked sympathetic. “Your friend should be fine, his blood oxygen levels were low and he looks pretty beat up but he's still breathing there shouldn't be any permanent damage. I can't tell you anything for sure until he's gotten to the hospital and we've gotten some checks done, though.”

The world was too loud and too bright and the siren was wailing in his ears, the voices of the people around him blurring into a wall of sound and Bucky resisted the urge to cover his ears, resisted the urge to scream, resisted the urge to lash out at the woman in front of him and force her to let him by so he could see Steve for himself. He resisted, and took a deep breath. Logically, he knew that the best thing he could do was leave Steve in the hands of trained professionals, but he still felt like he should be doing something to help, something more than stand around panicking.

He realized then that he was still being talked to, and he refocused on the sound of the woman's voice, trying to get some sense out of what he'd been interpreting as meaningless noise. 

“...nearest family member, or just identification, would be really helpful.”

“Oh, yeah, um,” Bucky fumbled, trying to get his thoughts in order and get anything through the deluge of feelings that was controlling him right now. “Steve Rogers, that's his name, he goes to Lehigh Boarding School, and his mom's Sarah Rogers, she goes to VCU. I haven't got a phone number or anything, sorry,” he said. He wasn't entirely sure how he was managing to make words right now, but he just let them keep coming out of his mouth as he watched the green-vested paramedics close the back of the ambulance and get back into the front, yelling for the woman who was talking to Bucky to follow them.

“Right,” she said, snapping closed a notepad that Bucky hadn't even noticed she'd gotten out. “Thank you for that, it’ll be very helpful. We're going to be taking him to Southside - can't give you a ride, unfortunately, protocol – but once he's stable I'm sure there won't be an issue with you coming to see him. You know where it is?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, dazed. He knew the place well, had stayed there himself for a week after his incident in ninth grade. In a moment, the woman was gone, and then the ambulance was driving away, sirens fading into the distance with the flashing lights.

He stood still for a long time, still reeling, and eventually, when his head felt like it was back on his shoulders, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had to be practical, now, he needed to figure out what had happened and then get a ride to the hospital so he could make sure Steve was okay. He glanced around, assessing the situation, and noticed that the crying blonde who'd been talking to one of the paramedics was still standing there, wiping her eyes. Bucky knew her, he was sure of it, and eventually his brain supplied a name to go with the face – Lori; she'd been in his class for as long as he'd been at Lehigh. 

“Lori!” he shouted, jogging towards her. She turned at the sound of his voice, and a fresh wave of tears swept over her as she saw him. “What happened?” he asked, trying not to sound accusative but not sure he managed it.

“B-bucky, 'm so sorry, 's all my fault,” she said, gulping in a breath of air and speaking more steadily, even if her voice was still a bit shaky. “S-some asshole was picking on me and then h-he showed up to help but I just left 'cause I was pissed off and I, I dunno what happened but-” her voice hitched, and she pressed her lips together, trying to continue. “I got back an' he was blacked out, hardly breathing, so of c-course I called 911 and I'm so sorry,” she said again, wiping tears and smudged eyeliner from her face. 

“It's not your fault,” Bucky said numbly, hugging her because it felt like the thing to do and letting her sob into his shoulder, but his mind was on Steve and how stupid he was to go around provoking people like that, one of these days he was going to get killed if he wasn't already-

The shock of that thought had Bucky pushing Lori back, reassuring her that it wasn't her fault and that everything would be find, before he slipped back through the crowd of people surging forward to hear Lori's version of what had happened. He needed to find someone with a car to get him to the hospital, as quickly as possible.

* * *

Just Bucky's luck that there would be traffic the moment that he needed to get there as fast as he could. Just his luck that they'd end up stuck in a jam, Verity's car between two others as they advanced at a snail's pace. While he was antsy as hell about the fact that he wasn't at Steve's side that exact second, he also decided to do something useful with the time he was spending worrying in the car, so he took off his wig and hat, scrubbed off his makeup with one of the baby wipes in the door compartment, and stripped down to something at least resembling a normal outfit that had been under all of the leather and buckles. Dum Dum had even been able to hand him an extra t-shirt that he'd been planning to change into which, while being way too big on Bucky, was better than the loose-sleeved pirate shirt. He took a deep breath as they approached the building, and yeah, it wasn't easy to miss, even in the dark, with the words _Southside Regional Medical Center_ in large blue letters across the front.

“Sorry we can't come with,” Dum Dum was saying, “but someone's gotta tell the school where you are, and everyone else is MIA.”

“S'fine,” Bucky said, brushing it off, although he would have much preferred having someone familiar with him as well. He checked his phone one more time, but he still hadn't gotten a text back from his mom, so he shoved it back into his pocket, trying not to feel overwhelmed. It was a quarter past eight, so she was probably still eating dinner, but given that one of the people he cared most about had just been driven off to the hospital, he felt he had the right to be a bit worried for the others as well.

He closed the door without saying goodbye to Dum Dum and Verity, moving quickly because his body was practically overflowing with nervous energy. Bucky approached the receptionist who greeted him the second he entered the building. He tried for a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, which was closer to how he felt, anyway.

“Can you tell me where to find Steve Rogers? He should have just been admitted an hour or so ago,” Bucky said tightly, trying not to appear as nervous as he was.

“Steve Rogers...” the receptionist murmured, typing the name in and clicking a few times. “Should be on the third floor. Angus Holt ward, it's the first left. Room 335.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said to the receptionist grimly, not even bothering to try to smile this time.

“Sure thing,” he said, giving Bucky a sunny smile as he headed to the elevator. 

During the ten second trip up one floor, and then as he walked through the corridors, Bucky did his best to suppress the onslaught of memories. The tile floor, the weird modern art on the walls, but mostly the smell was what brought it all back. That sterile, cloying scent that he'd only ever found here, it was enough to make him feel like he was wandering these halls during that one week of hell during freshman year.

That time, it had been _his_ ambulance, _him_ passed out in what was left of his dad's car with Becca, eleven and terrified, screaming from the back seat. He stank of alcohol and worse, drugged up to the point of being convinced that he was dying, and happy about it.

When he'd woken up in the hospital room to see his mother sitting there, eyes red from crying and holding Becca like she was going to break, he almost wished he had died so he wouldn't have to live knowing that he could have killed his sister. As it was, while he hadn't hurt her, Bucky had a broken arm and a concussion, and a feeling of guilt that loomed over him to this day. Because he had been so very close to bringing her down with him in his depressive spiral, and that was so much worse than the fact that he'd gotten himself into that state in the first place.

Bucky inhaled sharply, reminding himself of the pressing reasons for which he was here right now as he approached the door labeled 335. More afraid than he thought he'd ever been of what would greet him on the other side, he pushed open the door in a rush.

Three heads turned his way, but he disregarded two of them, noticing only that in the hospital bed was Steve, sitting up and showing no signs of the blue around his lips that was there before. 

“Bucky!” Steve said, his face lighting up, and in the aftermath of the wave of relief that had just crashed over him, Bucky realized belatedly that he'd probably interrupted the woman the white coat, who was almost definitely a doctor, or the blonde woman with a striking resemblance to Steve- _definitely_ his mother.

“I'm sorry for interrupting,” he backtracked, “Please excuse me, I just- I needed to know if Steve was okay.”

“I'm fine!” Steve burst out. “Buck, I'm fine, it's you I was worried about. Here, sit down, this'll only take a minute,” he said, gesturing to the chair next to his mother.

“As I was saying,” took up the doctor, her attention back on Steve, “while I doubt it's entirely necessary, given your history with asthma and the fact that you were unconscious for a while, I'd like to keep you here for a couple of days just in case.”

As the doctor went on, Bucky sat down, offering a shy smile to Sarah, and tried to get a better assessment of Steve's condition than his original one, which was just 'Not Dead'.

While he didn't seem to be struggling to breathe, there was a tube under his nose that was connected to a canister of what was presumably oxygen. With the blood cleaned up, Bucky could see that he had a rather nasty-looking cut on his cheekbone, a split lip, and the beginnings of a black eye. Not to mention, his left arm was being held immobile in a sling. Still, he was smiling and nodding as the doctor talked, and he didn't look like he was in much pain, thankfully. 

“Now, if you and I could just go over the insurance information, Mrs. Rogers...”

“Of course. Baby, I’m gonna go figure out the money stuff with Dr. Khatri here, you don’t mind if I leave you two alone for a few minutes, right?”

“’course not. Go ahead,” Steve said. Sarah stood up and pressed a kiss to his forehead before following the doctor out of the room. 

The second they were alone, Bucky unfolded his limbs from where he’d been sitting tensely and made his way across the room in the space of a second. He sat on the bed, careful not to touch Steve because the last thing he wanted was to hurt him more.

“Stevie, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault and I’m so fucking sorry,” he babbled, because now that he knew Steve wasn’t badly hurt the guilt was crashing over him again. Just like last time, he’d nearly destroyed the person who was closest to him, and was this just what he did? Ruining the people he loved most, the people who deserved it the least? Bucky tried to hide it behind his hands, but the tears he’d been holding back all evening were coming now, hot and thick and fast, and he wiped them away angrily. This was so stupid, he had no right to be crying, Steve was the one who was hurt, Steve was the one who deserved to cry and to hit him and hate him, but he wasn’t, he just looked sad, why did he look so sad?

“Buck, nothing’s your fault,” Steve said, his voice catching in what Bucky wasn’t sure was a laugh or a sob. “You didn’t do anythin’, I swear, this was all me, just like it always is.” He laughed, almost bitterly. “You think this’s the first time I got beat up and ended up having an asthma attack? It’s been a year or so, sure, but it used to happen all the time, when I was a kid.” 

Bucky had always known Steve was asthmatic, but he hadn’t realized the seriousness of it until tonight, and for Steve to mention so casually having attacks, a least several of which likely landed him in the hospital too, well, it astounded him. He’d only been in the hospital twice, once two years ago and once when he’d gotten a particularly severe bout of pneumonia and hadn’t realized until it was late enough to be dangerous, but both of them laid like scars in his memory, things he tried not to think about unless he absolutely had to. But Steve- with his asthma and anemia and allergies to just about everything, plus the epilepsy he was only just growing out of, Bucky had no doubt he spent a good part of his childhood in white-walled rooms just like these.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, but more out of sympathy than guilt- not that the guilt was gone. It was his fault and he knew it, because he shouldn’t have just left Steve to go off dancing like that, it was so irresponsible of him, he should have known something bad would happen if he let the blond out of his sight, because didn’t it always?

“I told you, you didn’t do anythin’,” Steve said, sounding almost angry now. “I got him angry myself, he was already pissed off that Lori got away from him and then he started talking bad about you and I just… Buck, I threw the first punch. It’s my fault.”

“You mean,” Bucky said, not sure he believed what he was hearing, “you mean you punched a guy who you knew could beat you bloody just because he talked shit about me?” he asked, incredulous. “ _Jesus_ , Steve,” he said, standing up and pacing the length of the small room.

“If you’d heard the things he was sayin’,” Steve said, his voice pleading but his face creased in anger, his free hand clenched into a fist. “Buck, I swear, if you’da been there you woulda done the same.”

“Sure,” Bucky said, sitting back down slowly and taking Steve’s hand, “but I’m not- it’s not the same, I wouldn’t-“

“Wouldn’t what?” Steve said, suddenly sounding angry at _him,_ and no, that’s not what he wanted at all. “I might be small, but I got as much a right to stand up for myself and my _boyfriend_ as anyone else.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said. He wasn’t convinced in the slightest. It was different, completely different, and Steve needed to be more careful. He had to take care of himself or Bucky was going to have to do it for him, whatever it took. Still, now wasn’t the time to argue about it, not with Steve tired and lying in the hospital after the events that had just occurred. To be honest, at this point Bucky was surprised he could even talk coherently, because he was feeling lightheaded and exhausted and he wasn’t even the one who’d been punched in the head. 

“I should go,” Bucky said eventually, standing up and letting go of Steve’s hand. 

“D’you have to?” Steve asked plaintively, but he was also trying to cover a yawn, so Bucky knew he really should let him get some sleep.

“Yeah, I gotta get back to school,” he said. Bucky paused at the door, though, turned back to look at Steve. 

“Just one more thing though. Who did this to you?”

“Brian… Brian something,” Steve said, stifling another yawn. “One of Hodge’s gang.”

* * *

Bucky got back to the school late, because he’d had to call a taxi and it had taken forever to arrive. On leaving the hospital, he’d discovered a plethora of frantic texts and missed calls from his mother, because apparently the school had called asking after him, and the text message he’d sent her in an attempt to explain things had just made it worse. He called her back in the taxi, and when she picked up, sounding panicked, he spent the whole hour-long ride trying to calm her down and explain that his best friend was hurt, not him, and that actually he was going to be fine, so there was no need to worry, really Mom, we’re all okay and no, you don’t need to come make sure, he wasn’t hurt, he was fine. 

When he finally arrived at Lehigh, he had the taxi driver bring him right up to Evergreen, and it was probably ten o’clock by then, so people were getting ready for bed. Honestly, Bucky wanted nothing better than to collapse into his own bed and sleep, but he had something else to do before the night ended.

 _One of Hodge’s gang._

Steve’s words were still ringing in his ears, and he was angry, now, angry as hell. He’d never liked Steve’s roommate, but now he was going to go give him a piece of his mind, because if this was his fault, if he’d caused any harm to Steve, even indirectly-

Bucky didn’t want to think about it, but he doubted he’d be able to keep much control if he found out that this was actually all Hodge’s fault. He knew that the consequences might be severe, but he couldn’t just let this happen, had to do something to get back at the people who dared to hurt someone like Steve.

When he got into Steve’s room, Hodge glanced up from his phone, and his expression was relieved as he sat up immediately the second he saw Bucky.

“They told us what happened in roll call, so fucked up. Steve okay?” he tried to ask, but Bucky had already gotten to his bed in a couple of steps, and he was trembling with anger, inches away from Hodge and only just managing to keep from punching him in the stomach as he was tempted to.

“Steve recognized the guy that did it, he said,” Bucky spat, getting even closer to the other boy. “Brian something, Steve said. One of Hodge’s gang, he said.” And Bucky didn’t think, just acted, got up on the bed and jammed a knee into Hodge’s thigh and pressed his arm against his throat, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to make the threat clear. “You wouldn’t know a Brian, would you, _Gilmore?_ ” he asked, using Hodge’s rarely-mentioned first name in an attempt to throw him off-balance.

The boy swallowed loudly, raising his hands in a weak gesture of surrender.

“No, I swear, it wasn’t me, dude, I didn’t put ‘im up to anythin’, I only said- Sure, yeah, I know ‘im, but he’s kinda an asshole, we don’t really hang out or anythin’.” 

Satisfied enough by the response, and the fearful way Hodge’s eyes darted around, Bucky let him up, taking his arm away, much to Hodge’s relief.

“But you did say something to him.” Bucky said. It wasn’t a question.

“Well, yeah, I mean,” Hodge said, looking only slightly less nervous. “Look, it was just a joke, okay? We made fun of Rogers because we thought he was a f- I mean, thought he was gay, or whatever. But it was just a joke, I swear, nobody ever meant anythin’ by it, except I guess Brian was more fucked up about it than the rest.” 

Bucky pulled back slowly, stepping back from the bed. 

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay, you didn’t do shit, obviously, but you didn’t do shit to _stop_ this from happening either. Don’t think I’m gonna forget about this, Hodge, if you do anything to hurt him ever again, I’m not gonna let you off so easy.” 

Hodge nodded once, fearfully, and Bucky left the room in almost a daze, heading down the hall to his own room. He was greeted by his roommates, who were full of questions, but he didn’t think he had the energy to answer them, even if he’d wanted to. With a mumbled, “I’m tired,”, he climbed into bed and put a pillow over his face to block out the concerns of Sam and Johnny. Tired as he was, he doubted he’d be able to sleep for a long time yet, because something was gnawing away at him inside.

Whether it was his fault that Steve had gone out and provoked that guy or not, it was his fault he’d been beaten up. If it weren’t for Bucky, there’d be no rumors about him being gay, no reason for homophobes like Hodge to make mean jokes about him and no reason for fucked-up people like Brian to take out their anger on him. If it weren’t for Bucky, Steve would probably be with Peggy, he thought bitterly, and then he’d have to deal with half the school being jealous of him, but that was so much better than what he had now. This was all because of Bucky, and he had to do something about it, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to manage if something like this ever happened to Steve again. He drifted into an uneasy sleep eventually, his dreams torn up by what he’d resolved himself to do the next day, the last thing he ever thought he’d do, but here he was without a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Bucky tries to do the right thing, and it doesn't go well.
> 
> Come bother me on [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com)!


	10. la petite mort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve gets three things from Bucky: texts, backstory, and heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Wow, it sure has been a while, huh? Like, a month? I'm real sorry; I didn't have a computer for the longest time and then I was caught up in homework and SAT prep and the like. But now we should be back to regular weekly updates, and hopefully I can manage to keep this up throughout the school year!
> 
> Translations in the end notes.

_si l’on me perd, sache que je serai la tienne, et au creux de ses bras, la mort nous bercera_  
_car si l’on me perd, c’est seulement pour rester la tienne, et au creux de ses bras, la mort nous bercera_

Steve woke up to the familiar smell of a hospital ward, and for a second he couldn’t remember what had happened. For a second, he could have sworn that he was fourteen and still recovering from the heart surgery, that everything since then had just been a fever dream.

Of course, it was only a second, and the events of the night before came back to him along with a wave of pain from his wrist and his face. And holy _shit_ , was it painful. Steve winced out of reflex, but that only made his cheek and eye hurt worse, and when he propped himself up on his right elbow, trying to get into some sort of sitting position, his head spun.

He let himself flop back down onto the bed, closing his eyes and fighting the temptation to just fall back asleep.

Sure, it would be easier to lapse back into unconsciousness, he reasoned with himself but he probably had stuff to do, schoolwork to keep up-to-date on. Besides, there was light streaming through the half-closed curtains and it wouldn’t be a good idea to sleep during the day. In hospitals, it was too easy to let the days slip away, nothing to do but sleep and watch TV, and he didn’t want to let time get away from him like that again. He was only supposed to be here for a couple days, three maximum, and he wanted coming back to the real world to be as little of a shock as possible. That way it would be easier to pretend all of this hadn’t happened, just go back to life as normal.

It’s not like he was really badly hurt, or anything. A few bruises and cuts, he’d heal up from, and his wrist was just a fracture- and his left wrist, too, so he wouldn’t have a problem drawing or writing after. In the end, the only thing that could have been bad was the asthma attack that had been triggered, and it had been far from one of his worst. The fact that he was breathing fine now was proof of that. After some of the worse ones, he couldn’t breathe right for days, kept aching all over and felt his lungs straining almost constantly. After another nebulizer treatment today, Steve doubted he’d have any more problems related to this asthma attack, if he could judge by how he was feeling now. 

So Steve was actually feeling pretty sunny, and he finally managed to work up the effort to move around some pillows and pull himself up to sitting. He got his phone from the bedside table, and noticed a note in his mom’s familiar cursive scrawl.

_Stevie- I’m heading home now that you’ve fallen asleep. Dr. Khatri will take care of you, don’t worry. I’ll visit whenever I can, and if anything happens let me know, I’ll come regardless of whether I’m in class or work._  
_xoxo, Mom_

Steve bit his lip, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth, because while he understood his mom couldn’t be around all the time to comfort him, and he was too old for that anyway, it was nice to have something that made him think of her while he was lying here doing nothing.

When he unlocked his phone, he was surprised to see a barrage of text messages, not just from Bucky and Peggy but also Jacques and Gabe and Dum Dum and Monty and Jim and a couple of unknown numbers. He couldn’t help but grin a little bit to see that so many people worried about him, as bad as he felt for making them worry. He wasn’t used to it, was all, having people other than his mom who worried when he was hurt. 

He checked the texts from Peggy first, and was greeted with about a dozen questions (where are you, what happened, are you okay, who did this, when’re you coming back?), followed by, “hope you’re alright- please let me know asap.” Smiling at the way she fussed – the girl was like a mother hen sometimes, honestly – Steve responded, typing slowly with one hand and cursing the stupid tiny keyboard on his phone.

 **Steve:** I’m fine, not too badly hurt.  
**Steve:** Don’t worry :)

Before he even had a chance to close out and look at the other texts, his phone buzzed with a response.

 **Peggy:** oh thank god, I was terrified.  
**Steve:** No really, I’m 100% okay.

He tapped the message out painstakingly with his right thumb and then sighed, adjusting the way he was sitting frustratedly. This was going to take a while. Steve clicked to the next contact.

 **Jacques:** mec si t mort je vais te tué

Smiling wryly, Steve typed out the best response he could think of, which admittedly wasn’t much, because he was hardly in a state to figure out anything coherent in French right now.

 **Steve:** T’inquiète pas, je vais bien.

The messages he’d gotten from the rest were mostly the same- concern, hopes that he would be okay, questions about what had happened and when/if he was coming back. Steve did his best to answer them all adequately, simplifying the story significantly in his explanations and wishing desperately that his stupid phone had a copy/paste option. Once he’d gotten through everyone he knew, he found a couple of texts from someone not in his contacts.

 **(703) 821-3269:** this is lori- just wanted 2 say im so sorry for what happened yesterday  
**(703) 821-3269:** i know its totally my fault and i feel terrible  
**(703) 821-3269:** i hope ur ok and if theres anything i can do let me know  
**(703) 821-3269:** im also sorry for saying ur a typical testosterone filled guy that was mean of me

Steve wasn’t quite sure what to say in response. He didn’t blame Lori for what had happened, not really, but he didn’t really feel up to talking to her right now. He told himself he’d try to figure things out with her when he got back to school, and left the texts unanswered. The other messages he’d gotten were from another unknown number, and they were filled with those little boxes that meant that the person on the other end had tried to use an emoji that his phone couldn’t process.

 **(571) 106-4482:** yo, howie stark here! ☐☐  
**(571) 106-4482:** this is steve’s # right ☐  
**(571) 106-4482:** …☐  
**(571) 106-4482:** well anyway, just here to say hope you’re not dead or w/e ☐  
**(571) 106-4482:** peg’s super worried ☐☐ but i’m sure you’re ok

He didn’t feel up to responding to these either, honestly. He’d kind of never liked Howard Stark, but he was self-aware enough to know that it was partially just jealousy, because he and Peggy were close in a way that he knew he’d never get to be with her. They’d been friends for such a long time, and had dated at least once, so Steve felt he had adequate reason to not be incredibly friendly with the guy. Still, it was nice of him to have texted like this, and his blasé attitude was actually kind of appealing, and not nearly as obnoxious as he’d thought it was. 

He reached the end of the list, finally, he was left with the name Bucky Barnes, and a small number 3 beside it.

 **Bucky:** steve we gotta talk  
**Bucky:** when can i come see you?  
**Bucky:** sometime when nobodys there

Frowning, Steve put the phone down. He didn’t like the sound of that. In his experience, limited though it may have been, any talk starting with ‘we need to talk’ ended up going very, very poorly.

 **Steve:** Yeah, sure!  
**Steve:** This afternoon should be fine, iirc.

He typed the response hastily, then paused to think over whether it was actually true- but yeah, his mom was at work until six PM on Saturdays, so Bucky shouldn’t have any issues visiting any time before then. 

**Steve:** Is everything okay?

But he didn’t get a response, and after a few minutes a nurse came bustling in with lunch and he put his phone aside and tried his best to forget about the whole thing and keep from worrying about it too much.

* * *

During the day, Steve had the time to send e-mails to all of his teachers (typing one-handed was still awful, but much easier on one of the hospital’s PCs than on a phone, at least), get started on his weekend homework, and even take a small walk around the hospital. He was pleased to find that the slight exertion that it was didn’t seem to provoke any lightheadedness or shortness of breath. Back in his bed, he watched some TV and replied to texts – though none of them from Bucky – explaining that he’d probably be back early the next week, and reassuring people yet again that he was doing well and they didn’t have to worry.

He was staring absently at the television screen above his bed when Bucky showed up, and he sat up with a delighted grin.

“Heya, Buck,” he said, pushing himself out of bed and hurrying to greet Bucky at the door. The other boy looked faintly alarmed.

“Shouldn’t you be…?” he asked vaguely, gesturing towards the bed.

Steve laughed. “I had an asthma attack, not heart failure. I’m allowed to stand up.” He leaned forward to plant a kiss on Bucky’s lips, and tried to ignore the way that the brunet flinched away from him in the first instant, as if automatically, before kissing him back.

“C’mon, sit down,” Steve said, getting into one of the white plastic chairs himself and waiting for Bucky to sit down as well. He kept pacing slightly, Steve noticed, stepping back and forth and biting his lip, his hands in near-constant motion. 

“Steve,” he started, but stopped himself, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. He sat down, finally, his fingers tapping the arm of the chair nervously. “Look, I don’t think I’ve ever explained to you exactly what happened in ninth grade that made my parents send me to Lehigh in the first place.” Steve shook his head slowly. He’d been wondering what Bucky had kept alluding to for a while now, and he was curious, but it didn’t seem right for him to ask. Better to wait until Bucky was ready to tell him, and he was patient enough that it hadn’t bothered him. He knew that when the time came, it would be worth it that he’d waited, and Bucky would be able to trust him more because of it.

“Okay, so,” Bucky continued, taking a deep breath. “It was a month or so after I’d come out at school, and everyone I thought would be okay with it wasn’t, and everyone I never thought I’d be friends with were the only people who’d hang out with me. The druggies, the alcoholics, the soon-to-be-dropouts. With them, I probably had the least problems of the group, but it didn’t make me feel much better. Honest, being with them all just made me feel worse.

“One night, just after my then-boyfriend broke up with me, I was so… so messed up about it an’ about everything that when I went out to a party, I got drunk as hell and I’m pretty sure I did a bunch of other shit too, only I can’t remember much, and, and I forgot that I had to pick Becca up from dance class that night.” Bucky paused, and Steve noticed suddenly that he was on the verge of tears.

“Buck…” he said softly, reaching out to place a hand on Bucky’s arm, but the brunet jerked away from his touch, inhaling deeply and looking away. 

“No, I’m fine,” he said emphatically, although it was hardly convincing given that a few tears were rolling down his cheeks now. “I- I went to go get her, only I was so fucked up on booze and drugs that I didn’t really know how to drive, and she didn’ wanna get in the car with me b-but I told her I was fine and then I crashed into a tree and broke my arm an’ it’s only by luck that she d-didn’ get killed.” 

The last half was nearly incomprehensible, because Bucky was stuttering it through his sobs, tripping over the words as he said it all in one breath. “I’ve never… I never told anyone about this before,” he managed to get out. He was crying in earnest now, and this time he let Steve touch him, let him wrap his arms around him. 

Steve almost felt like crying too, but he held it back, forcing himself to stay strong for Bucky’s sake. He needed him to be here, to help him, and so he would be, cradling Bucky against him and breathing in deeply. He buried his face in Bucky’s shoulder, holding him to the best of his ability with only one working arm, and he ignored the discomfort of the position because all that was important was that Bucky feel safe with him, that Bucky know he was there for him whenever, for whatever reason.

Eventually, the brunet pulled out of Steve’s embrace, wiping his eyes.

“I told you all of that,” he said, heavily and slowly, “’cause you deserve to know, but mostly so you’ll understand what I’m about to do.” 

Bucky’s eyes were downcast, his jaw set and forehead creased, and the gravity of his speech sent a thrill of fear through Steve. Whatever he was about to do, it couldn’t be good, not if he spoke like that, looked like that. Not with what Steve could have sworn he felt radiating off of him, anger and sadness and pain. 

“Steve,” he said once again, looking into his eyes. “Stevie, I can’t let that happen again. I can’t fuck up the people I care about, and I don’t care- no, I don’t care what you’re gonna say.” He cut Steve off, who’d opened his mouth to protest, because he had a terrible, terrible idea that he knew what Bucky was about to say and he needed to do anything he could to keep this from happening. “It’s my fault that you’re like this, ‘cause that asshole has some problem with gay people, and if we weren’t together, then you’d be, well-”

“Then I’d be miserable!” Steve said, unable to keep hearing Bucky say this without intervening somehow. This hurt worse than everything else combined, a pain deep in his chest somewhere beyond his sore lungs, worse even than the moment last night when he thought he was going to die. “I’d be fucking _miserable_ without you, Bucky, you gotta know that, you can’t actually think…”

“Don’t make this harder for me than it already is,” Bucky said, pleading, and Steve was angry now, hot and trembling slightly, because Bucky was so fucking _stupid_ , couldn’t he see that this would fuck him up far worse than anything any bullies could do? “I just can’t let anything like this happen to you again. We were-” his voice cracked, and he swallowed loudly. “We were lucky for the time we had, but I shoulda known things couldn’t be this great for me. You’re too good, Stevie, I don’t deserve you.” 

“Buck, don’t do this to me.” Steve was crying, too, now, but he barely noticed it, blinking tears out of his eyes and letting them roll down his face. “You can’t- you can’t do this to me, please. I don’t fucking _care_ what anyone else thinks, I’ll be fine if I have you.”

But Bucky was shaking his head sadly. “Steve, if you can’t protect yourself I gotta do it for you.” 

“I don’t _want_ ,” Steve said, and then he couldn’t go on, had to take a deep breath and stand up before he could try again. “I don’t fucking _want_ you to protect me, and don’t you dare give me any of that high-and-mighty you know better than me about my own needs bullshit, ‘cause I got it all before and lemme tell you, what I _need_ is you. I’m not- I’m not gonna let you think that you’re helpin’ me in any way, because you’re not, you’re fucking _not_.” The end of his sentence got lost as he burst into sobs, covering his face with his right hand.

“Steve, you don’t understand,” Bucky said, and fucking hell he still just sounded sorry, sounded in pain, even. “I’m doin’ this for your own good, and trust me when I say it’s the hardest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever done, but I gotta keep you safe.” 

Steve was about to scream, he could feel it rising in his throat, because he didn’t get it, he just didn’t fucking get that what he was doing now had nothing to do with protecting Steve and everything to do with his own selfish ideas of what would help. He walked to the other side of the room fast, and then came back, needing to get this out of him one way or another. “You’re always tellin’ me to listen to you, well listen to me now,” he started, “’cause I’m tellin’ you loud and clear that all you’re accomplishing right now is fucking up the only good thing in my life, and it’s selfish as hell is what it is, to ruin everything we have just so that you feel like you’re protectin’ me.” 

“Do you know how afraid I was, last night?” Bucky asked, standing up too and raising his voice. “Because lemme tell you, I was fuckin’ terrified. The thought that you were hurt, that I might lose you, it was the scariest thing I have ever felt. So don’t you _dare_ tell me that I’m being selfish, because this is _all_ for you, Stevie, it’s the last thing I want.” 

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Steve said vehemently, rage boiling in his chest but underneath it was just hurt, hurt, an empty gaping hole of it. Bucky just sat there, looking small and hunched in on himself, and when Steve saw the look in his eyes he could feel all of his anger evaporating, leaving nothing but pain and sadness.

“You can’t leave me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t leave me, Buck, I love you.” And that was not at all how he’d hoped to say it for the first time but it was the only thing to say, now, in the wisp of hope that it would convince Bucky not to do this to him. The words hung in the air between them for a moment, and Bucky looked surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. For a second, Steve thought that it was going to work, that it would be enough to make him realize, but he just glanced at the ground, and then he looked back up his expression was heartbreaking again.

“I love you too, Stevie. That’s why I gotta do this.” 

It felt like Steve had been dropped into a bucket of ice water, plunged into frozenness and slowly going limp, his fingers uncurling from the fists he hadn’t realized he’d made. 

“Say it, then,” he said, his voice ringing oddly in his ears, as cold as he felt himself. “Say it, if you’re really going to do it.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said, and he sounded broken, now, plaintive and childlike, but he continued nonetheless. “I’m breaking up with you. We can’t- we can’t be together anymore.” 

“That’s how it is, then.” 

“That’s how it is.” 

Bucky turned and reached for the doorknob, trying to hide that he was crying but Steve could see the way his face crumpled, and he did nothing to stop him as he left, nothing but collapse onto the bed and sob into a pillow until he didn’t think he had any tears left to spill.

* * *

What was supposed to be just two days ended up being four, and Steve didn’t get back to school until late Tuesday evening, a cast on his arm and the swelling in his eye finally having gone down enough for him to see properly. He was greeted by a dark campus, and made his way over to Evergreen Hall quietly, feeling oddly spooked out. There wasn’t anyone around, and there was definitely an air of emptiness that he wasn’t used to hanging around the class building. Usually at this hour, he wasn’t allowed to leave the hall, so it was weird seeing everything in the dark.

He had a meeting with the Heads of House that night, and stopped into his old room just to grab his things and drag them down the corridor and up a flight of stairs into a single room. It was usually the floor for the seniors, but there was an extra room there, and after the whole incident he didn’t think he’d be able to manage to stay in a room with Hodge for any longer. He would have liked a different roommate, sure, so as not to be all alone, but this seemed like the easiest solution. He hauled all of his clothes up into his new room and left them strewn across the floor, without enough energy to really put everything in place, and flopped into bed after half-undressing. At least in his own room, he wouldn’t have to worry about being fully clothed all the time, or noisy roommates at all hours, right? 

The next morning, Steve woke up feeling apprehensive. He didn’t want to have to face Bucky, not after what had happened Saturday, and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to handle seeing him and even talking to him without crying or kissing him or both.

So he just had to avoid him, he told himself, avoid him until he realized his mistake and apologized. Steve went through his usual morning routine – shower, clothes, hair, insulin, teeth, breakfast – all in keeping away from the fourth floor to the best of his ability and turning his gaze away from Bucky when they were both in the kitchen. Thankfully, the other boy was caught up talking to Monty, and barely seemed to notice Steve’s presence, which was both a relief and, oddly, kind of painful. 

Physics that morning was awkward as hell, as both Steve and Bucky seemed to be trying their best not to talk to each other, but it was kind of difficult because they were supposed to be working together. At the end of the class period, Steve, feeling fed up with it all, went up to Ms. Cleaves and asked her if he could change lab partners. She pursed her darkly lipsticked mouth, looking disapproving.

“I can, yes, but don’t you think you should try to sort out whatever problems you and James are having before making so drastic a change? I’m not going to put you back after, you know, this isn’t musical chairs.”

“No, of course not, ma’am, but I really don’t think things’re gonna work out like that. Can I please…?”

“Sure, Steve,” Ms. Cleaves said with a sigh, scribbling it down on a Post-it note. “You can sit with Thomas, does that work for you?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he said with a sigh of relief. This would be much easier if he could just cut Bucky out of his life as much as possible, he thought as he exited the classroom. Still, he spent the first half of his next free period ruminating about it all, and he came to the conclusion that it wasn’t going to be easy no matter what. There was still a part of him that held on to the hope that after a week or so, Bucky would come crawling back to him, having figured out that he really was just making both of them miserable, but honestly, he knew better. Bucky was at least as stubborn as Steve himself was, though it wasn’t as evident- when he got an idea in his head, especially if he thought he was helping someone else, there was no deterring him from it. 

So for Steve’s own sake, he had to try to rely on his other friends, or at least the few of those he had. When he saw Howard Stark pass by him, in loud conversation with a bunch of cheerleaders, he figured it had to be fate itself intervening on his behalf, and flagged the other boy down. 

“Gimme a few, girls, we can catch up later,” he said, waving to the girls, who giggled and whispered, nudging each other, as he joined Steve at the table. “Hey-o, Steve, what’s up?” 

Of course, now that he had Howard in front of him, Steve wasn’t entirely sure what to say. “Uh, I just wanted to say thanks for the texts you sent me… it’s nice to know that someone cares, y’know?” 

“’course! You had us all worried, you know, I thought Peggy was gonna faint when she heard the news, called me up all freaked out. I knew you’d be fine, though. You’re stronger than you look,” he said, clapping Steve on the back. 

“Uh, thanks, I think,” Steve said bemusedly, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. “Look, I just wanted to ask- can I sit with you and Peggy and the rest at lunch today? I’ve got some problems with my friends…”

“Say no more!” Howard said, and his tone was so cliché Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re happy to accept you any time, friend. Don’t even gotta ask.” 

“Great, thanks,” Steve said, face breaking out into a grin. “In that case, should we head down now? It’s nearly time.” They walked down the stairs together, chatting aimlessly, and in the lunch line he was greeted by Peggy, who threw her arms around him. Laughing, he pointed out that they’d just seen each other in English class a few hours ago, but she said she didn’t care and squeezed so hard he thought he could hear a crack. 

It was nice, eating with Peggy and Howard and their friends, even if it was a bit weird. The atmosphere was different from the raucous joking he was used to at his usual table, more subdued, but still often roaring with laughter at some well-placed joke. Steve couldn’t help but glance Bucky’s way as he awkwardly tried to feed himself with one hand, and once more he was both relieved and somewhat annoyed to see that the brunet seemed to be doing fine. He certainly didn’t want to see the other boy suffer, not really, but a bit of misery wouldn’t have been amiss. Any sign that Bucky was as screwed up about him as he was would have made him feel a little bit better about the fact that he could barely force a laugh at the jokes he wasn’t really listening to, let alone manage a real one. But Bucky looked like he usually did, talking over the rest and waving his fork around as he gestured, and it made Steve’s heart hurt a little bit, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. 

In history, too, the two sat next to each other, but Bucky managed to pass the entire lesson without saying a single word. Steve, on the other hand, motivated in part by some type of spite that had nested deep inside him, talked as much as he could manage to, answering questions and even rambling, which Mr. Tekin let him do without any protests. It was in the middle of an impromptu speech about the Cold War that Steve noticed that Bucky was staring at him with sadness creasing his face, and he finished lamely and let the class get back on topic. 

It was incredibly tempting to just be mad at Bucky.

Mad at everything, from the way he fiddled with random objects when he was bored or annoyed, the way he chewed on his bottom lip absently when he wasn’t paying attention to what the teacher was saying, the way he laughed and spoke and rubbed his nose when he was embarrassed. Mostly, though, Steve was just mad that he was doing all of this without him, as if he felt nothing whatsoever, as if leaving Steve hadn’t affected him in the slightest.

Because Steve was certainly affected, and he knew it showed. He spent some time with Jacques and Gabe after school, and he could have sworn the two of them asked, “T’es sûr que ça va?” about a million times in an hour. He could barely manage a smile, and even then it looked forced, and everything he did reminded him of Bucky, somehow. Even the most insignificant of actions made him think about the other boy. Walking back to the house, he caught sight of the tree they’d had a picnic under. Up the stairs, and he was tempted to turn the way that would lead to Bucky’s room instead of his new residence. Even as he organized everything into his new closet, it only took a glance at his pile of DVD’s to bring back that lazy Sunday they passed watching Lord of the Rings and cuddling. He felt more alone even than he had before they’d been together, and he fell asleep curled around his pillow, trying not to admit to himself that he was pretending it was Bucky he was hugging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one was really hard to write ;A; I'm glad it's over with though, now things can start to get better for a while. 
> 
> Credit to Coeur de Pirate for the chapter title & lyrics  
> Much thanks to my lovely beta, [Chloe](http://therearestarsonthetipofmytongue.tumblr.com), she's fantastic and the best writer I know.
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> **Jacques:** mec si t mort je vais te tué  
>  **Jacques:** dude if ur dead im gonna kill u
> 
>  **Steve:** T’inquiète pas, je vais bien.  
>  **Steve:** Don't worry, I'm okay.
> 
> He could have sworn the two of them asked, “T’es sûr que ça va?” about a million times an hour.  
> "You sure you're okay?"
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comment if you liked it/hated it/it made you cry/laugh/anything, and if you're particularly emotive about it, come yell at me on [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Up next: Bucky faces the aftermath of his decisions in this chapter and isn't too pleased about it.


	11. oublie-moi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they try to be friends, and things work out... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhahaaa it's like midnight I'm so sorry guys I know I was supposed to post this morning but things've been crazy. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter's pretty unremarkable... oh, there's like a whole conversation in French, so I'll spare you guys the trouble of having to scroll or google translate by giving you a translation [here](http://i.imgur.com/DgEldvY.png) that you can just open in a new tab.
> 
> There are over 80 of you following this fic now?? Wow! I'm seriously shocked at that number like. That's a lot of people, guys. I love each and every one of you & I would give you so many stickers if I could b/c who doesn't like stickers right?
> 
> In other news, school starts on Wednesday? I am not prepared. I hope I'll still be able to post regularly but I can't tell you for sure... D:
> 
> Credits in the end notes!

_le soleil s’éteint sur nos destins, on court à l’échec, à perte au pire_  
_j’ai cru que tu m’aimerais pour un temps, mais laisse-moi tomber, laisse-nous tomber_

Bucky glanced away from Steve, telling himself firmly that he had to stop. He had to stop fucking pining, or whatever this was. All he knew was that he couldn't stop thinking about Steve, couldn't stop looking his way and trying to see what he was thinking, as if he could look straight into his head. And he could, sort of. Steve was a terrible liar, in the way he held himself just as much as when he actually spoke. It was clear that he was trying, but his smiles were tight and forced and his laughter rang hollow in Bucky's ears. 

The more miserable he looked, the more Bucky felt like he'd stabbed himself in the heart and now Steve was twisting the blade. That this was all his fault only made it a million times worse.

With a sigh, Bucky tore his eyes away from the blond again. He really needed to get himself together. It was like back in September all over again, only now it was worse, because not only was Steve ignoring him completely, but now he _knew_ what it was to touch him, hold him, _knew_ the feel of Steve's lips against his skin... and he was still killing himself with reminders that he could never again have that.

It hurt, too, that the second he no longer had Bucky tying him to the friend group, Steve ran off to Peggy and her gang of admirers. Some of them he knew- Howard Stark, for example: for all his show-offy assholeness, he was actually a pretty good guy. And Angie Martinelli, she was definitely one of the good ones, part of Peggy's host family and everything. Still, for the rest of them, all the girls who wanted to be Peggy and the guys who wanted to be on her, he didn't know much about. And he knew it was stupid and overprotective, but Bucky was worried for Steve. Sure, his friends were loud and a bunch of goofballs sometimes, but he knew that they were good people, deep down. Peggy's group, though, well, while he grudgingly trusted her with Steve, the rest of them, he wouldn't trust with anything, let alone with his... with his...

And what _was_ Steve to him now, exactly? Obviously not his boyfriend anymore, but he didn't think they could just go back to saying best friends again, or maybe even friends at all. 

Bucky pushed out a sigh between his pursed lips. He'd been blatantly ignoring Mr. Tekin for a good quarter hour now, too busy trying not to stare at Steve and moping about all of his problems. They still sat together in history, unlike in science, at least, when he'd gotten to class one morning last week to find Steve sitting morosely next to Thomas and Rachel in the blond's habitual spot. He didn't know if it was easier or harder, though, to be inches away from Steve and yet not allowed to touch him, not even able to interact with him beyond the quietly muttered greetings they allowed themselves. 

Despite it all, Bucky did what he could to try to make sure Steve was still okay. The next morning, he even asked Frenchie to give him an idea of Steve’s mental state. Because he was the only one Steve seemed to talk to anymore, and because he and Gabe had definitely guessed about the actual nature of Steve and Bucky's relationship (if Steve hadn't told them outright.)

Given Frenchie's adamant refusal to speak English (and at this point, Bucky was pretty sure it was sheer stubbornness with zero correlation to linguistic ability), they had to have the conversation through Gabe, which made things fairly awkward.

“Hey, Frenchie, got a minute?” Bucky asked, approaching the pair during the break after second period.

“Qu'est-ce tu veux, wesh?” Frenchie asked brusquely, which Gabe translated as, “Yeah, what's up?”

“Uh, I was just wonderin' if you could tell me, well, y'know, Steve 'n I don't get on too good anymore-”

“Fils de pute,” Frenchie muttered angrily, which Bucky was pretty sure was an insult, but when he looked to Gabe he just shook his head and motioned for him to go on.

“Right, well, I was just wonderin' how he's doin'. Y'know, if he's okay or whatever.”

“Il me dit toujours que ça va, mais depuis que tu l'as quitté il est dans un sale état, mec. Alors va t'faire foutre avant que je n'te frappe, bâtard.” And Bucky was definitely sure that some, if not all of that was an insult, if only from the way Gabe winced and took a moment to think before he translated.

“He says Steve's doin' okay, but he's not great. He won't ever admit it, though.”

Bucky sighed, because wasn't that just like Steve. He’d collapse under his own burdens before he’d ever bow low enough to ask anyone for help. 

“All right, thanks,” he said, leaning up against the wall and listening to the pair discussing in French as they walked away.

“J'aurais aimé voir sa tête si t'avais traduit ce que j'ai dit vraiment.”

“Ouais, mais bon, faut pas non plus trop abuser, quoi. Je pense pas qu'il ait voulu lui faire mal, il a un bon cœur.”

“Ouais.”

* * *

For two whole agonizing weeks, things carried on like this. Bucky went through the motions, and pretended not to watch Steve pretending he wasn’t miserable. To Bucky’s relief, at the very least Steve seemed to be doing slightly better. That, or he’d just gotten better at acting like he was okay. But he hung out with Peggy and Howard more and more, and spent less and less time loitering pointlessly around Evergreen- in fact most days, he wasn’t even back until dinner. Bucky was afraid to ask if anyone knew where he was, afraid that he’d hear stories of Steve and Peggy French kissing out back of Beech or something else similar to the rumors that were constantly bouncing around school.

Dully, Bucky thought that Steve would probably be happier with Peggy than he ever was with Bucky. 

Every day when he woke up and remembered what was going on, with all of the accompanying desire to immediately regain unconsciousness so he didn’t have to live through it anymore, he told himself that he couldn’t go on this way. That this would be the day he cracked and went crying to Steve, that this would be the day he finally went crazy and did something stupid. But then he kept putting it off, telling himself that he was doing better, and wasn’t this just a bit easier than it was yesterday, wasn’t he managing to think about Steve just a little bit less? And every night when he lay there in bed he came to the slow realization that no, it really wasn’t, and nothing was going to change or get better unless he did something about it.

For a while he considered going out with someone – hadn’t that doe-eyed girl from the Halloween party, Connie, was it, been flirting with him? – but all it took was one second of imagining the look of hurt on Steve’s face and he dropped that possibility. 

Eventually, he did crack. It was the 19th of November – one week till Thanksgiving break – and Bucky was faced with all of the combined apprehension and excitement that going home brought, with nobody but Dum Dum to help him through it. Not that he didn’t help; he did everything he could, always had. But he was more like a brother to Bucky than anything else, and it was Steve’s kisses and comfort that he craved, even if he was loathe to admit it to himself. Eventually, after getting yet another voicemail from his mom telling him all about how they were going to start studying for his SATs together as soon as he got home and get to work on , he finally managed to scrape together the courage to go talk to Steve. If he couldn’t fix all of the fucked-up stuff in his life, he could at least do his best to ameliorate the best thing he’d ever had. So, Bucky decided to get his shit together and go talk to Steve. For real, this time. 

It was a Wednesday, so he looked for Steve during what was usually their shared free period (and, he remembered with some bitterness, this was when they used to get to class fifteen minutes late because they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other in whatever nook they found themselves in after breakfast). He started off taking a few halfhearted steps down towards the junior study area, but he knew he wouldn’t find Steve there. He’d be in the art room, just like he always was these days. 

This time, Bucky looked in the glass window before entering. The last thing he wanted was to walk in on something like the time he’d found Steve drawing Peggy, or worse. (The mental images that thought elicited were equal parts nauseating and arousing, if he was honest with himself.) To his relief, Steve was all alone, his thin form silhouetted in front of an easel propping up an enormous canvas that was almost as tall as he was. Bucky took one last deep breath, trying to strengthen his resolve, and then knocked gently on the door before opening it. 

“Yeah?” Steve said loudly, turning to face him. In the soft daylight streaming in from the large windows, Bucky saw with heartbreaking clarity the way Steve’s eyes widened and he looked suddenly vulnerable, before squaring his shoulders and getting that stubborn pinched line between his eyebrows he always got when he was about to pick a fight. Bucky would recognize it anywhere, but he’d never before been the enemy in Steve’s eyes, and it was even worse than he could have imagined. Glancing away from his face, he saw that Steve’s thin hands, streaked and dotted with paint, were fluttering, birdlike, from movement to movement- now twitching upwards as if he were going to cross his arms, now putting the paintbrush they held into the lineup on the table behind him, now picking up another just to fiddle with. He was beautiful, god, Bucky barely knew what to do with himself, but he swallowed hard and feigned casual comfort, swinging his arms loosely as he walked over to sit on the table. 

“What d’you want, Bucky?” Steve asked, not even pretending to be civil. Somehow, that hurt Bucky the most, that he wasn’t even worth the pretense. 

“Stevie,” Bucky started, but his voice cracked and he cursed himself for it. “Steve,” he tried again – measured, calm – “Look, I’m real sorry that things had to end the way they did between us, I feel just awful about it.” It was times like these when Bucky wished he were a writer, because then maybe he’d be able to convey what he really felt (that his world had stopped turning without Steve in it, that the days had grown monotonous and the nights stretched too long for his tired soul that missed what they once had, that sometimes he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his own inadequacy and having lost the only good thing he’d ever had) instead of words that tasted hollow in his mouth and he could tell sounded even worse to Steve. “But I was thinkin’… couldn’t we still just be friends? I miss you, Steve, I really do.”

There. He’d said it, and now all he could do was wait and see what Steve had to say back. When he chanced a look up at Steve’s face, he was surprised to see crushing sadness grace his features, which was quickly replaced by a twisted-up scowl.

“How _dare_ you?” 

Bucky knew all too well that Steve was quick to anger, but this was far from what he’d expected. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell his problem was, but he didn’t get a chance to before Steve started up again.

“You can’t just… you don’t get to do this to me, Bucky,” he said, sounding more exasperated than anything. “I dunno what it’s like for you, but every time I so much as look your direction it’s painful as hell to remember that we’re not together anymore. D’you have any idea how hard it would be to… to have to _pretend_ I don’t care about you? Just ‘cause it’s easy for you to make out like I never lo- like we were never together doesn’t mean you can just presume I feel the same.” 

“Jeez, Steve, there’s no need to get all riled up,” Bucky said, and he didn’t mean for it to sound so sarcastic but now he’d already said it and his tone was practically scathing. “Forget about it. Was a stupid thing to ask, anyway. I shoulda known you wouldn’t even wanna bother with me if you couldn’t fool around with me too.”

Head turned away, Bucky could feel rather than see the shock and anger radiating off Steve. “Fuck off, Bucky,” he snapped. “You got no idea what I want. Never did. Shoulda guessed, after all, if you knew what I wanted you wouldn’ta fucking broken up with me in the first place.” He’d turned on his heel and marched off before Bucky could even think of anything to say, and he was left burning with shame and disappointment. He’d said the wrong things, he knew it well, but he’d just gotten so pissed off at Steve’s constant assumptions that he didn’t care about him. It was _because_ he cared so much that he’d had to do this, and he thought Steve understood by now. He’d certainly done his best to explain it, to tell him that all he was really looking for was to keep Steve safe, but apparently that was too much for the other boy to comprehend. 

Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands down his face as he looked to the ceiling. Pushing back from the table, he winced at the loud screeching noise of the stool underneath him before standing up to look at the painting Steve had been working on. It really was huge, and Bucky had to take a few steps back to really be able to see it. It was rough, lacking the detail he knew Steve usually added in near the end, but the shapes were still clear. A seascape, waves crashing onto the daubed-on grey sand, the stormy sky nearly black with clouds. And right in the middle, a tiny figure, standing knee-deep in the water. It was a silhouette, arms thrown to the sky, too far-off looking to make out any features. Bucky’s eye followed the line of the arms up the canvas, and saw that right before the top of the frame, a white bird with outstretched wings looked like it was preparing to make a dive down to the water.

He sighed, audibly. It was hard not to interpret everything he’d been getting from Steve so far as a cue to turn tail and run as far away from him as he possibly could before he fucked up anything else in Steve’s life. But as insensitive as it was, Bucky didn’t think he’d hold up for long if he did. He didn’t know how he made it so far without Steve before, but now he needed his support, needed his friendship if he couldn’t have his love. Not that he deserved either one, he thought bitterly, but fuck if he wasn’t selfish enough to beg for them anyway. 

Now that the anger had faded, Bucky just felt limp and empty, like a deflated balloon. He resisted the urge to just lie down on the art room table and glanced at the painting one more time before slowly leaving the room. This was Steve’s place, not his, and he had no reason to stay other than to pine over what could have been if he just weren’t so terribly unlucky for the people he loved.

* * *

Bucky was just drifting off to sleep, spacing out to his favorite Fall Out Boy album, when he was jolted back to consciousness by the _ding_ of his text tone interrupting his music. Squinting, he fumbled at the general direction of his night table, groping around for his phone, until he managed to knock it entirely off the table. Cursing quietly (but vehemently) as his earphones were torn out of his ears, he grabbed the phone and stuffed the earphones back into their proper place.

> _
> 
> I will always land on you like a sucker punch, singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare.
> 
> _

The phone screen, blindingly bright against his tired eyes, read _Steve: Text Message (swipe to answer)_. Bucky caught his breath, heartbeat speeding up as his mind raced through all of the possible reasons Steve could be texting him after their conversation from that morning, and none of them were good. Wiping the tears out of his eyes, because damn his phone really was too bright, he hesitantly placed his thumb on the home button and hoped for the best.

> _
> 
> If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sang at you, you would never sing along  
>  Cast them out ‘cause this is our culture, these new flocks are nothing but vultures
> 
> _

**Steve:** Hey, so I should apologize for what I said today. I shouldn’t have been so short with you, it wasn’t right of me. I know you’re just trying to do what’s best.

Bucky exhaled, not having realized that he’d been holding his breath all this time, and closed his eyes, silently thanking whatever god there may or may not be for Steve’s indomitable fucking goodness. 

> _
> 
> And don't mind me, I’m just a son of a gun, so don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb  
>  Now I’m just numb, I don’t feel a thing for you
> 
> _

As soon as he calmed himself down enough to realize that he probably had to say something in return, Bucky was faced with the fact that he had no idea what he could say or do to make up for what he’d said that morning, but he tried his best anyway, thumbs flying over the tiny keyboard and not even bothering to correct his typos in his haste. 

**Bucky:** god steve im so fucking sorry for beign sucha dick to you i was so pissed off and it was so fucking stupid

> _
> 
> I’m just a problem that doesn’t want to be solved, so could you please hold your applause
> 
> _

Somehow that wasn’t sufficient, and Bucky quickly typed out another message, biting his lip in his concentration and trying to find the right words. 

**Bucky:** i get it if you dont wanna be friends anymore i shouldntve assumed you still did  
**Bucky:** i guessi just dont even care if we re together or not you were still my best friend 

> _
> 
> Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare  
>  I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare
> 
> _

After what felt like far too long, Bucky’s phone buzzed and he hastened to check Steve’s response. 

**Steve:** Buck, God no, that’s not what I meant at all. I just wish you’d understand that you’re not responsible for protecting me. I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.  
**Steve:** But I know by now I can’t convince you of anything you don’t want to believe, so I’m not going to push.  
**Steve:** If you still want to be friends, I think we could try that.

> _
> 
> Because they took our love and they filled it up  
>  Filled it up with Novocaine and now I’m just numb, now I’m just numb
> 
> _

Regardless of the fact that this was exactly what he’d been begging Steve to say just that morning, Bucky found that in the darkness and the silence, the things that had seemed so bright and clear before were now murky and confused. Is this really what he wanted? Is this really what Steve wanted? Would it make things better, for them to talk and try to be friends, or just make it all even more painful? And most importantly, Bucky suddenly found himself wondering and worrying if Steve even wanted to be around him at all. Contrary to what it may have felt like, forcing an agreement out of the other boy didn’t mean they’d actually be friends again. More likely, things would be painfully awkward between them, and Bucky could just imagine his future self looking back at this moment and wishing he’d had the guts to end whatever the hell was going on between them completely before it turned terrible. 

__

> And don't mind me, I’m just a son of a gun  
>  So don’t stop, don’t stop until your heart goes numb, now I’m just numb  
>  I don’t feel a thing for you

**Bucky:** yeah thatd be great :)

* * *

In Physics the next morning, Bucky couldn’t stop staring at the back of Steve’s head. In his new spot next to Thomas, he was right at the front of the classroom, and Bucky had an excellent view of his profile as he smiled and frowned and doodled on his notes and raised his hand eagerly to answer whatever questions he could. Steve wasn’t that great at sciences, Bucky knew, and he’d tutored him a few times, before they were dating. (After they were dating, they couldn’t manage it without Steve making innuendos out of everything and Bucky being too busy laughing and kissing him to actually get anything done.) Bucky’s grades would sure make you think he wasn’t great at them either, but he actually had had a pretty good grasp of the basics of physics since freshman year. He just screwed up in the calculations, usually, or in not showing his work, and he found the class so boring it wasn’t worth doing the homework for.

Bucky sighed, resting his chin in his hands, and tried not to spend too much of his time looking drearily at the blond. Rachel noticed something was up, definitely, and she nudged him when Ms. Cleaves was trying to get her PowerPoint to work properly.

“Hey, everything okay?” she hissed under her breath.

“Hm? Oh yeah, fine,” he said just a bit too loudly, which got him a glare from Ms. Cleaves as she stood back up again and started messing with the projector’s settings instead. For the rest of the period, he made a concerted effort to smile and act like his regular self, and he thought he did okay. The worst was yet to come, he knew, because he’d been late to class and hadn’t so much as made eye contact with Steve yet. He spent the last five minutes of class hoping, for probably the first time in his life, that the bell wouldn’t ring. 

Of course, it did, and then he had to get up and grab his stuff so he could get to AP Russian. To his surprise, when he sat back up from putting his books in his backpack, he saw Steve standing in front of his desk, smiling brightly. 

“Heya, Buck,” he said, and while Bucky thought it sounded a little bit forced, he ducked his head and smiled himself because fuck, at least Steve was trying.

“Hi, Stevie,” he said in response, standing up and walking towards the door of the classroom. “How’s it going? What’ve you got?” 

“Free, you?” Steve fell into step beside him naturally, and Bucky decided that maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Russian,” he said, making a face. Not that he didn’t love the class, but he was feeling way too lazy for an entire fifty minutes of speaking another language. 

“Aw,” Steve said. “Well hey, I’ll walk you there.” The pair rounded the corner towards the language wing, and Bucky pressed his lips together, trying to think of something to say. It was kind of awkward, he had to admit, but it was comforting to have Steve beside him as he got to the classroom door.

“So, um,” Bucky said, leaning up against the doorframe. 

“Seeya at lunch, Buck,” Steve said, smiling at him and then hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack and walking away. 

“Seeya, Stevie,” Bucky said, and he sat down in his habitual spot near the back of the classroom. He didn’t know quite how he felt- relieved, definitely, because that could have gone a hell of a lot worse, and yet the short interaction had done little to ease his worries. He hadn’t had any idea what to talk about, and he felt like any subject he brought up would just devolve into more awkward silences or, even worse, turn into rehashing the same argument they’d been having during each of their few brief conversations over the past two weeks. And even if that didn’t happen, how on earth were they going to sustain a friendship when both of them wanted more? It wasn’t much of a stretch for him to imagine Steve, in his stubborn way, refusing to accept the fact that Bucky had made his decision for Steve’s own good. Bucky was fucking weak, he didn’t think he’d be able to put up much of a fight. If Steve decided to try to win him over again, Bucky was pretty sure he’d crack embarrassingly easily, and then what would have been the point of this whole charade? 

At lunch, Bucky was yet again surprised and delighted that the empty chair next to him was already occupied by the blond ruffian who’d vacated it two weeks ago. He was the second to sit down at the table, and as the rest of his friends filed in they each seemed at least as happy as Bucky was to have Steve back at their table. Dum Dum practically launched himself towards Steve to give him a welcome back hug, Frenchie patted him on the shoulder and said something in French that made Steve choke on his milk, and Jim’s eyes lit up as he clapped Steve on the back with an enthusiastic greeting. Bucky noted quietly that Steve’s grin got wider and wider (and more and more genuine) as he saw just how happy the guys were to have him back. 

Throughout the whole half-hour, he was explicitly careful not to touch Steve once- not to place a hand on his arm when he was laughing so hard he nearly fell over, not to brush up against him when they ate, not to lean against his shoulder when he felt a wave of tiredness hit him. He didn’t want to do anything that Steve could take as a suggestion that this was going to become anything other than friendship, because it wasn’t, he was certain of it. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were before they’d ever been together, as painful as that might have been. It would be better for both of them. 

For the next few days, they almost eased back into the routine they’d gotten used to. Almost, but not quite. For one thing, while Steve ate with them at lunch still, that was about the only interaction he had with Bucky and his friends. He hung out with Howard and Peggy during his free periods, and went god-knows-where after class every day. Bucky tried to quell his suspicions that Steve was with Peggy all of that time – and it wasn’t any of his business, anyway, he told himself ferociously when he wondered too much – but they seemed to be getting closer and closer with every passing day. And for another, Bucky refused to touch Steve in any way that could be taken as anything but definitively platonic. In the meantime, he couldn’t help but notice that Steve and Peggy were practically hanging off of each other, hugging and cuddling, and more than once he’d seen lip-prints in her distinctive red on Steve’s cheek. 

Apart from that, though, Bucky was surprised by how simple it was to just be friends with Steve. It felt easy, even. Natural. It was like they were meant to be together, even if Bucky had to restrain himself every time he found himself missing the feeling of Steve’s hugs or his gaze caught on those lips. 

All too soon, it was Monday evening again, and Bucky was shoving clothes into his duffel bag without regard for whether they matched or even fit. His mom was coming to pick him up early the next morning for Thanksgiving break, even though school didn’t technically let out until that afternoon, which meant that he was mercifully exempt from classes that day. It also meant that he wouldn’t get to say goodbye when everyone else did, before the bus left for Richmond. After roll call that night, he caught up to Steve on his way to the stairs.

“Oh hey, Bucky, what’s up?” Steve actually looked pleased to see him, which raised his spirits quite a bit.

“Well, uh, I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Thanksgiving, so I just wanted to say ‘bye I guess.”

“Oh! Lucky you, you get to miss that history test.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a smile. Steve made a strange, aborted movement, like he was going to hug Bucky, but thought better of it and stuck out a hand awkwardly to shake. Bucky gave in and leaned forward to envelop the smaller boy in a hug. Steve tensed for a moment, and then relaxed, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist. They held on for just a second longer than they probably should have, before pulling back.

“See you next week, then,” Bucky said, and Steve just smiled at him before heading upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Coeur de Pirate for the title / lyrics, and Fall Out Boy for their song Novocaine. 
> 
> MUCH thanks to my bestie [Maddie](http://insanelogically.tumblr.com) for betaing this very last-minute for me. 
> 
> Also, I just realised that the wordcount for this thing has surpassed that of my short novel. This fic is crazyyy.
> 
> Come bother me about these dumb babies on [tumblr](http://nataliia-romanova.tumblr.com).
> 
> Up next: Steve does everything he can to get Bucky to give in to his feelings.


End file.
